Out of the Depths
by clair beaubien
Summary: Vin saves a toddler trapped in a cave, and it brings up terrible memories from hism childhood. Chris tries to help him deal with them. Rated for topic and descriptions of torture. Now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Stepping out of the boarding house first thing in the morning, Vin stopped under the porch overhang to pull on his leather coat before venturing into the downpour. Rain had been pounding the town for so long, the streets were bear traps of grasping mud and every creek had already overflowed its banks.

Vin considered a moment if he wanted to head over to the restaurant for breakfast, or hunt up Larabee first to see if he'd join him. As he turned, he saw the usual trail of water flow down the roof of the dry goods store just across the alley. He watched the narrow river wash around the tin chimney, then cut diagonally across the roof to a worn spot on the end of a shingle where it sprayed onto the porch roof to finally roll off the corner and into the mud street.

It wasn't much amusement, but there wasn't much other amusement to be had in a rainstorm that hadn't let up for four days.

The early stage pulled in, stopping a few buildings away and Vin turned his attention to it from the growing lake in the alley next to him. Two passengers got off and the driver hefted down a small box with rope handles and spoke a few words to Ezra who was walking by. Probably just going to bed.

Vin was too far to hear the words, but he saw Ezra shake his head while pointing to the box, then the driver pointed to the box and shrugged, and resumed his seat on the stagecoach to drive off again.

Intrigued by the exchange, Vin braved the deluge to walk down to Ezra and the box.

"What y'got there?"

"That, my dear Mr. Tanner, I am about to discover. The driver said there was no name, only vague instructions to drop it here." From an inside pocket, Ezra produced a small pry bar.

"Ezra, I swear one day I expect to see you on a poster wanted for bank robbery."

"You wound me Mr. Tanner, you absolutely wound me."

Using the pry bar Ezra lifted the lid of the box only to let out a disappointed sigh.

"Well, one could hope that a fortune had been dropped into our laps."

Vin peered into the box and saw that it was packed full of bibles.

"Reckon they must be for Josiah."

"Yes, I reckon they must be." Ezra agreed.

Vin waited. He knew Ezra would never offer but he waited anyway to chaff him a little.

"You gonna bring 'em down to the church?" he asked.

"I? Pray tell why should such a duty fall to me? Especially on a day as dreary as it is drizzling?"

"What's the matter Ezra? You made of sugar? Think you're gonna melt?"

Vin kept his own face a blank mask of seriousness but he enjoyed the look of pure peevishness he saw in Ezra's face.

"I do _not_ think I'm made of sugar. I am simply not inclined to dash through this precipitation, overburdened with a crate of the Good Word on the presumed chance that they do indeed belong to -."

His tirade was cut short when Vin grinned and bent down to shove the lid shut again. Hooking his hand through one of the rope handles, he straightened up with the box slung over his shoulder.

"Don't choke yourself Ezra, I'll tote 'em down." He walked a few paces down the boardwalk but turned back.

"Hey Ez - what was it you called it? The rain? Precipice? Ain't that a cliff?"

"Indeed, a precipice is a cliff." Ezra replaced the pry bar in his pocket and brushed off his hands. "And it sounds quite a bit like precipitous because if you do something too fast, you might go over a cliff. However, rainfall is referred to as precipitation."

"Pre-cip-ah-tay-shun." Vin repeated, then nodded his head once in gratefulness. "See y'around Ezra."

Crossing a few drenching alleys brought Vin to Josiah's church. He found the preacher inside placing basins under quite a few dripping spots in his roof.

"Ain't it about time we started the ark?" Vin asked as he lowered the box onto a dry pew and took off his water dripped from his hat and his coat onto the wood floor.

"I have been considering it." Josiah answered as he nudged a still empty basin into place with his boot. "But I'm afraid Buck's 'cargo' would swamp us. What have you got there?"

"Box of bibles, just got dropped off the stage. No name, no address but the town apparently, thought they might be yours."

"I don't recollect ordering any bibles, but maybe the Good Lord decided I needed a few." Josiah dried his hands on his trousers and pulled up the lid of the wooden box. "Let's have a look."

He'd only taken out one bible when Chris burst into the church. He wore a dark slicker over his clothes and his expression was grim.

"Vin - Josiah, we need you. The creek's flooded down near the Gaskell's farm, their baby son got swept away. Yosemite's saddling the horses."

Box and bibles were forgotten as the three men ran to the livery.

M7*M7*M7

Chapple Creek churned angry and determined along its tortuous course through the Gaskell homestead. Normally a narrow, placid flow, now it overflowed even its usual flood plain and elbowed its way across the plowed fields and toward the small house.

At a curve in the creek bed stood a small cave formed into the side of a low hillock amongst some ancient boulders. It once stood a good distance from the water, but now the creek flowed into it and back out again in an erratic whirlpool. As the three men came into view of it, Mrs. Gaskell ran towards them from the mouth of the cave.

Clearly with child, hatless and coatless in the cold pouring rain, she was practically sobbing as she reached them through ankle deep water.

"He's in there! He's in there!" She shouted to be heard over the roar of rain and raging water, pointing to the cave. "We can't reach him _- please - please_."

"Ma'am, you shouldn't be out in this weather." Josiah was the first one to her side, but she didn't hear him. She grabbed Chris and Vin by their sleeves as soon as they dismounted.

"_Please_ - he's drowning!"

Leaving Josiah to try and calm Mrs. Gaskell, and to keep her out of their way, Chris and Vin hurried into the cave. With the only light coming from the gray sky outside, the small cave was dim. They could hear a young child screaming and the clearly frantic voice of his father calling to him.

"Grab the rope Robert. Grab the rope! I can't reach you - grab the rope!"

"Mr. Gaskell?" Chris shouted. As their eyes adjusted to the dimness, Chris and Vin saw the father lying in the swirling water, calling down into some hole or opening in the cave floor. A steady wave of water poured around him into the hole.

"I can't reach him!" Mr. Gaskell barely turned away from the hole. "It's too narrow and he's too far down. I can't reach him!"

Vin was already pulling off his hat, coat and slicker, throwing them onto a boulder still above the water before the father was done talking. They'd passed the rock dam a quarter mile up the creek and it looked about ready to let go. If they didn't have the boy safe before then, he'd be lost.

As Chris helped Gaskell up out of the water, Vin pulled the rope out of the hole and tied it around his waist. Not waiting to see that Chris took hold of the other end, he dropped to his knees then to his stomach in the cold water and began squeezing himself into the hole where the little boy still screamed.

In the darkness, Vin could just make out a boy, about two or so he figured, standing mostly waist deep in water that filled up and then emptied down. Huddled about four or five feet from the lip of the hole, he was too far down to reach up, and the hole was too narrow for the broad shouldered Mr. Gaskell or his pregnant wife to fit through.

Even for Vin it was a tight squeeze and he moved as fast as he dared, feeling hands holding his legs, and the slack tightening up on the rope. His body blocked the water that had been pouring in and what little light there was. He tried to talk calmly to the boy as he made his way further into the cramped, watery hole.

"Hey Robert. We're comin' to getcha. Found yourself a pretty good hidey hole, didn't you? I used to be pretty good at finding hidey holes myself when I was a young 'un. We'll have you outta here pretty quick."

He wasn't sure the boy could hear him or even understand him; he talked not only to calm the boy, but himself. He had a fear of small spaces that he could check when he had to, but only as long as he could keep his mind on something else. In this small hole, filling and emptying with water, with the boy's screams bouncing off the sides and hardly any room to move, it was hard to keep his mind on anything else but feeling trapped.

"A little more, a little more," he called to the hands steadily lowering him into hole. "I nearly got him. A little more. C'mon Robert, reach up to me. Reach up to me."

Into the hole nearly to his knees, Vin finally found the two little hands desperately reaching up. They were icy cold and muddy and he didn't trust the purchase he had on them, so he grabbed hold of an arm and a handful of wet hair and hung on.

"I got him! I got him!" He called out and the rope and the hands pulled them up. Soon man and boy were both free of the hole, both soaked through with cold water, scratched and muddy but alive. Vin ended up on his back on the wet ground with the boy in his arms.

Mrs. Gaskell was there with her husband and she grabbed her son from Vin and held him tight in her arms, crying over him and kissing him repeatedly. Mr. Gaskell started thanking them profusely but Vin waved him off.

"Later," he said, dizzy from hanging upside down and breathless from being so confined. He pulled himself to sitting up. "Get him inside, get him warmed up. We'll be in directly."

As Josiah shepherded the family to the house, Chris stood in front of Vin and offered him a hand.

"Planning on sitting there all day are you?"

"That's a lotta blow from a man who don't look like he even got wet." Vin took his hand and got to his feet. "I hope they got a good fire going in that house 'cause I don't aim to move from in front of it 'til daybreak tomorrow."

"Hey! Looks like we missed all the fun!" Buck and JD appeared at the mouth of the cave.

"Just doin' a little fishing was all." Vin said. He wearily sloshed through the water, intending to retrieve his hat and coat from the dry boulder. Suddenly, outside the cave, they heard a crashing rumble.

"That's not thunder..." JD said.

"It's the dam -" was all Vin had time to say before a wall of water, wood and stone raged into the cave. He saw Buck shove JD out of the way before falling into the churning water, and off to his right, Chris was thrown against the wall of the cave. Then the water hit his own feet and he felt himself being dragged towards the rabbit hole he'd just saved the boy from. Wood and rocks as big as his fist pelted him relentlessly and everything went black.

to be continued


	2. Chapter 2

As dazed awareness came back to Vin, he felt cold water pouring down onto him. He became sharply aware of the pain that seemed to be attacking his entire body, and he realized that it was hard to breathe. The next thing he became aware of though overrode everything else - he couldn't move. He'd been shoved down into the little hole and was half buried in rubble. Below his shoulders, only his left arm was free.

Trying to think clearly, Vin told himself not to panic. He was alive and upright, and the fellas were just up top so it was okay. He'd get out. He wouldn't panic.

Then he called out to Chris, "_Hey_," and the sounded bounced dully back to him: the hole was completely covered with debris. Maybe they couldn't hear him. Maybe they didn't know he was down here. Maybe there was nobody up there.

He started to panic.

"_Chris!" _

Vin tried to reach up to the mouth of the hole but the movement shifted the rocks around him and pinned him a little more firmly into the hole. The water level slowly crept higher and, hardly able to breathe in the crush of rubble, he was fast running out of air.

Maybe they didn't know he was down here, maybe the water had washed them out of the cave. Maybe they were hurt. Did they know he was down here? Were they coming for him?

Vin clawed at the rocks that had his right arm trapped but there was no room to put the debris that didn't take more room from him somewhere else, and the hole was so narrow his shoulders touched it on either side. He was trapped, he couldn't breathe, the water was rising and nobody knew where he was.

Then above him he heard pushing and scraping, the sounds of the debris being shoved off the hole and Vin relaxed a little. Somebody knew he was here, somebody was trying to get him. He'd be out of here soon.

Small stones and bits of driftwood pelted down and Vin turned his face away. A sudden fear grew up in him that it wasn't his friends up top trying to save him, but someone after him, trying to hurt him. It wasn't true, he told himself it wasn't true, but it was an old fear, permanently ingrained in him. He was seven again, being chased and needing to hide.

Suddenly his eyes were hit with light from a torch. It should have allayed his fears, but he couldn't see who was holding it.

"_De profundis."_ A familiar voice said. Lightheaded from panic and too little air, Vin was confused.

"Padre?" He asked, but it couldn't be Padre.

"_Vin - do you hear me?"_ No, that was Josiah, shouting down at him.

"Stop praying dammit and get me the hell out of here!" Vin hollered with all the air he had left. He saw Chris at the edge of the hole just as Josiah handed the torch off to somebody. The water was higher than Vin's waist.

"We're here Vin." Chris said. "Give us your hands, we'll pull you out."

Vin immediately raised his left hand and Chris grabbed it, but his right arm was stuck fast as ever.

"Give me your other hand Vin, I can't see it. I need your other hand."

Chris' insistence added to Vin's panicked frustration.

"I can't move it! It's buried under the rocks. I can't get out. I can't get my arm out."

"All right, we'll start getting those rocks out." Chris said. "We're gonna need a spade and a couple of buckets." He let go of Vin's hand and seemed to move away. Vin knew it was probably to get the next step of his rescue underway as quick as possible, but all he could feel was that he was being abandoned.

"No!" Vin pounded his free hand against the wall of the hole, desperate that they not leave. If they moved off, they'd never come back and he'd suffocate and die and be left alone, buried in rock and water and a too-narrow grave. "Get me out! Get me out of here!"

"_Vin_." Josiah's voice, firm and loud, cut through the panic. "Do you see my hand? Take my hand Vin. I'm reaching down to you, take my hand."

Blindly, Vin reached up and felt Josiah take his hand in both of his own.

"You're not alone Vin. We're not leaving you. We'll get you out of there."

That calmed Vin's panic enough that he leaned his forehead against the side of the hole and used his energy to take the shallow breaths that were all his cramped lungs could manage. He clung to Josiah's hands.

"JD, Buck - you all right?" he heard Chris ask, but didn't hear the answer. "Can you pull with one arm Buck? We need you over here. Vin - Vin?"

"Chris?" His answer wasn't strong and used most of his air.

"Can you get your other hand free? Vin? How bad are you stuck? Can you free your other arm?"

"Help me Chris - can you help me?" Everything was starting to spin and even in this darkness, bright sparks of light danced in front of Vin's eyes. The water welling up nearly to his shoulders didn't feel cold anymore. Chris was still talking but Vin stopped listening.

Just as he was considering closing his eyes for a long sleep, something hit him hard on the top of the head.

"Vin! Can you move your hand or your arm?" Apparently Chris was repeating the question. "If you can give me you other hand, we'll pull you out."

"I can't!" Was all Vin could get out with any force. The rest of his words died out as he spoke them. "I'm trapped Chris, I'm trapped..."

"Try moving your fingers." Josiah said, and it took several moments for the words to make sense to Vin. "Just start with your fingers. Can you move your fingers?"

Once Vin understood what Josiah was asking, he tried moving his fingers. He found he could wiggle them, then curl them back to create a small hollow under his hand. That space let him twist his hand around enough to dislodge the rubble pinning his wrist. With his wrist free, he found he could maneuver his arm and he struggled so hard that when his arm came free, his hand shot up and he had the vague hope that he wouldn't hit anybody.

He only hit Chris' hands, reaching down, waiting to grab hold.

"Okay, we've got you. JD, you got the end of the rope? I think it's still tied around him. Buck, you sure you can pull one handed? Vin - you ready? Josiah, on three."

Vin felt them pull, felt the strain on his wrists, down his arms into his shoulders, and along his spine. The rope seemed about to cut him in half.

"Vin - you all right?" Chris asked.

"Been better." He answered. He wasn't getting any more air than before and the water was so high that he was taking swallows of it with each breath.

"We didn't move you a bit though, did we?" Josiah asked.

"How'd somebody so scrawny get stuck in there so tight?" Chris asked. "We gotta get him outta there before he drowns. C'mon."

Vin barely felt the strain on his arms this time. The sparks of light were burning suns in his eyes. The movement caused by being pulled sloshed the water over his mouth and nose and he choked on it. He felt like dead weight hanging onto his friends' hands.

"_De profundis."_

Startled by the voice that _wasn't_ Josiah, Vin's body jerked in surprise. That movement loosened the rocks around his legs. He kicked again, harder, dislodging more debris. Soon he was practically flying up out of the hole and he collapsed onto something hard in the water on the cave floor.

to be continued


	3. Chapter 3

Pulling for all they were worth, none of the men expected Vin to come free so fast or so forcefully. Falling backward into the cold, shallow water, Chris ended up with Vin laying across him.

Chris grabbed the back of Vin's shirt collar and gave it a shake, thankful and happy that they'd gotten him out alive. He felt Vin start to move and patted his back, intending to tell him to get his breath before he tried to get his legs, but Vin pushed himself up and rushed out of the cave.

Buck was closest to the opening and he followed Vin. Josiah helped Chris to his feet and with JD they left the cave and found Vin several yards away, on his hands and knees in the muddy field, retching up creek water.

Kneeling beside him, Buck had a hand on Vin's back. His other arm, injured in the onslaught, hung at his side. The rain still poured down.

"Take it easy Vin. Try to breathe. Try to get some air."

The shirt over Vin's back and right arm was torn open and blood flowed out, thinning in the rain water and running down to drip into the mud.

Chris knelt at the other side of Vin. He pushed the torn shirt up to get a better look at the damage done to Vin's back. He found a wealth of scratches that would add to the scars Vin already carried. Most were shallow, a few were nasty, and a couple looked downright dangerous.

"JD get to the house. Make sure they got a spot we can take care of Vin. Josiah, can you get Vin's gear before we lose it down that same hole? Vin?"

As Chris gave orders, Vin collapsed onto the spongy ground, coughing and breathing hard. Every inch of him was wet clear through.

"Vin - can you hear me? We're gonna get you into the house and take care of these wounds."

He put his hands on Vin's shoulders to help him to his feet, but Vin pushed him off as if startled and sat up, pushing himself back away from Buck and Chris. He was still coughing.

"I'm fine." He said and coughed up another mouthful of water. "Just - just let me catch my breath."

"Vin-." Buck stood to move towards him but Chris held a hand up to make him stop.

"It's all right. Give him a minute."

Buck gave Chris a puzzled look, puzzled and annoyed that he'd let someone as obviously bad hurt as Vin sit on the muddy ground in the freezing rain, but Chris saw something else in Vin's face.

"_Give him a minute_." Chris repeated pointedly and when Buck looked at Vin again, Chris could tell that they were seeing the same thing - panic that froze Vin even deeper than the weather. He was free of the hole, but he was trapped in something else.

"Buck - go to the house, see if they'll have room for us in there." He spoke deliberately, and only as loud as he needed to be heard over the rain. "JD - go to town, find Nathan. That baby is gonna need him as much as Vin. Josiah, might need a hand getting Vin in there."

Vin still sat in the mud with one hand pressed to his chest, coughing and dragging in every breath. His head was down and without his hat, his wet hair hung straight and dark around his shoulders. At the last sentence he lifted his head and struggled to his feet.

"No, I'm fine. Just c-cold is all. I need t'get back to town. I'm fine. I don't - don't want to go into the house. Just - let me get back to town."

The panic was clear in his voice, even more obvious than the chills that made him shudder with cold. Blood soaked into his clothes .

Chris understood that Vin was panicked, even if he didn't understand _why_ he was. But with the flood and other farms threatened, he didn't have the time to find out.

"Vin - you're bleeding." JD said.

"Had worse..." Vin brushed off his concern. "...y'get my horse JD? I'd appreciate it."

"Sure..." JD headed for the stand of trees up near the house where their horses had been tied. Another coughing fit hit Vin. He tried to bend down to ease the coughing, but a groan of pain overtook him. He stayed a moment bent over, waiting for the burning in his back and lungs to stop before he could straighten up again.

Chris took Vin's gear from Josiah and carried it to him.

"You sure you're OK?" he asked and barely heard the rasped,

"Yeah." as Vin tried and failed to get his body fully upright.

JD was leading Chris and Vin's horses toward them. Chris put his hand out to stop Vin from walking away, and he clearly saw the apprehension when Vin looked up at him.

"Vin - you ride back to town with Buck. I don't like him by himself with one bad wing. See that he gets to Nathan," and Vin nodded. "Get yourself there too..."

"Yeah..." Vin pulled away from Chris again and walked the few paces to his horse. He set his hat and holster over the saddle horn, tied his jacket over his saddlebags and pulled the slicker on over his gashed shoulders.

While Chris kept an eye on him, he spoke to the other men. "Buck, you get that arm looked at, get Vin looked at, then send Nathan out here. Josiah, you let the family know Nathan'll be on his way out here. JD - you and me'll follow the creek, make sure nobody else got hurt in that flash flood." Chris saw Vin make a weary attempt to mount his horse, but before he could move to lend a hand, Buck went to him.

"Guess you had yourself quite the adventure," he was saying, as he automatically gave Vin a hand up. Vin nodded and took the reins. "I'll pay for the bath Vin, you buy the first drink." and Buck swung up on his own horse one handed, and they headed back for town.

Chris stared after them for a long while.

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Vin felt familiar dread filling back the back of his throat as he rode to town. Images from his childhood sprang up in his mind, sparking and exploding like firecrackers. It was over, it was long over but still the freshened memories choked him as much as the creek water had just a few moments before. He was trapped, he was threatened, he was alone.

"Vin? You doin' OK there?" Buck asked. The horses paced side by side. Town was within sight.

"Yeah."

"Ain't too hard on your back, is it? You look pretty tore up."

"Had worse."

"You said that before." It sounded like a reflex, not an answer to Buck. Vin shrugged.

"Did have worse..."

"Well, let's get Nathan outta the way first, then have us that bath, hunh?" Buck asked, hoping for a more enthusiastic answer. All he got was a half shrug, half nod. And no more.

M7*M7*M7*

Yosemite took charge of their horses at the livery and they headed to Nathan's clinic. Vin would've gone straight to his wagon, only he told Chris he'd see Buck got looked after. His shirt under the slicker rubbed the roughness of his longjohns into his raw back. He'd have to get over to his wagon and take the shirt and undershirt off before they dried into his wounds.

He let Buck go first up the stairs and into the clinic, and hung back at the door.

"What happened?" Nathan asked.

"I got hit with a boulder and Vin here took in a gutful of water and got his back all tore up."

Vin turned, intending to leave, but Nathan's stern voice stopped him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Back t'my wagon. Get some shut eye for a bit."

"Yeah, well you can get some sleep after I take a look at your back. If you got tore up good, I'm not havin' you wander off nursing an infection. You get them clothes off and let me have a look at you."

Vin didn't move from where he stood at the door, one foot already out on the balcony. He didn't say anything for a long minute. Finally,

"Nathan, I'm tired and I'm cold. " His voice was barely breath. "Already been a coupla places I didn't wanna be today. I'm fixing to have a bath and I'll soak my back real good. You got salve or something you wanna give me, then give it to me and let be on my way." Nathan hesitated and Vin added, a little irritably, "I been taking care a'myself most of my life I reckon. These scratches start draggin' me down, I'll come back to you. Ain't alive 'cause I'm stupid y'know."

"No, I know you ain't stupid Vin." Nathan told him. "I'll get you some salve." He turned to his cupboard and handed Vin a small tin.

"I 'preciate it wanna get some rest. More things got tore up today than just my back." It seemed Vin thought he'd said that to himself, the way he looked up surprised when both of his friends stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "Just wanna get warmed up and get some rest " he held his hand out for the tin of salve, nodded his thanks and left.

When he was gone, Nathan turned to Buck. "You got any idea what that was all about?"

"None whatsoever "

M7*M7*M7*M7*

Vin couldn't help feeling that people were staring at him as he made his way down the street from Nathan's to his wagon. Sure, it was probably the mud and being soaked through to the bone. Still... he had plenty a'times in his life he'd been stared at for worse. Whispers, looks, nudges. The silences that filled a room when he walked in, and the harsh rebukes of parents dragging their children away from playing with him as a child.

How the woman who gave birth to him refused to acknowledge him, except to shove him out of her way if he ever tried to get too close.

The memories filled his throat, trapping him and choking him worse than the water in the cave. He just had to get it out of his mind, he had to think about something else. Just have him a bath and get warm, then lay down for some rest. After some rest, he'd be okay.

He dug through the boxes and paraphernalia in his wagon to come up with clean socks, trousers, long johns, and his last clean shirt. He rolled them in an oilcloth to keep them dry, and limped his way to the bathhouse, feeling the pain in his back worsen from the movement. He paid for his bath, picked a tub, and shed his torn muddy clothes to sink into the blessedly hot water. It even felt good on the scrapes up his back. He'd washed his hair and his body, and was lightly dozing in the water when Buck showed up.

"I'll tell you, that little gal was just dead set that I wouldn't leave her side until - oops, sorry. Didn't realize you was napping." Buck said when he came around the front.

Vin just shook his head tiredly, and didn't say anything.

"I gave the boy a nickel to come take our dirty clothes over to the laundress. No sense us getting that mud all over ourselves again."

Buck set his clean clothes next to Vin's on the bench and slid his makeshift sling off.

"How're you doing there Vin?" his voice had a serious tone to it.

"Tired."

"Well y'had a busy day." He began to peel off his clothes. "Good thing you were there today. None of the rest of us coulda done got that baby outta that hole."

"JD coulda."

"He ain't as strong as you." Buck meant it as a compliment as well as a statement of fact, but Vin made a sound of derision.

"Yeah, I'm strong all right." He sat forward and rested his forearms on his knees. He closed his eyes and tried to fight off the building disgust he felt toward himself.

M7*M7*M7

An easy circuit of surrounding farms revealed only minor damage to land and property. Chris found himself picking off the mud as it dried on his clothes, letting it off fall to the ground and litter the path behind him like a trail of breadcrumbs. He felt a slight but growing flush on his face, and a suspicious tingle on his skin. Lord, he hoped he wasn't getting sick.

JD rattled off a list of people and farms he and Buck had checked on before, any damage they'd found, and other disconnected observations. Chris listened, only half interested. His mind was in town, wondering if Vin was getting patched up, wondering what was going on that had Tanner so spooked.

"Chris?" JD's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"I was just wonderin' if Vin's OK. He seemed, I don't know, kinda troubled back there at the washout. Think maybe he's hurt worse'n he let on?"

"I don't know." Chris answered honestly. "Buck'll see that he gets to Nathan."

M7*M7*M7*

Buck kept an eye on Vin as they both soaked in the hot water. Vin'd sat back and closed his eyes, he seemed to be dozing again.

The boy who worked for the bathhouse dashed in and out, grabbing an armful of wet clothes to run over to the laundress, knocking the clean clothes onto the floor in his haste.

"Hey y'rugrat!" Buck called after him. "Is that anyway -." But the boy was gone before he could get the whole scold out.

"What'd he do?" Vin asked. He didn't open his eyes.

"Knocked the clean clothes off the bench " Buck told him. " I don't guess he wanted to waste too much time earning that nickel. I'm pretty much done here anyway, I got sweet little Sarita keeping a bed warm for me."

They both got dressed slowly, Vin because of his injured back, Buck because of his bad arm. Vin was just pulling his trousers on over his longjohns when he gave a low grumble of aggravation.

"What?"

"Kid took my clean shirt with the dirty. That was the last clean shirt I got." He sat down on the bench, as though too tired to figure out what to do next.

"Here, take my clean shirt Vin." Buck offered it to him. "He left both my shirts, and the other one ain't hardly got any mud on it at all. It'll do me till I get where I'm going."

Vin eyed the big cotton shirt a little suspiciously at first. He made no move to take it.

"Don't want to put you out."

"C'mon Tanner. I'm goin' over for a little aid and comfort from sweet little Sarita. Won't need my shirt but a second once she closes her door " There was a smile on his face and in his voice, and Vin nodded and accepted the offered shirt.

"Thanks." All but whispered out. He eased it on slowly, feeling the pull of the scrapes on his back. It was almost absurdly too big on him, he tucked it in as completely as he could though, and rolled the sleeves up to his wrists before gently sliding his suspenders over his shoulders, and tying on his bandanna.

Pulling his boots on turned into an ordeal. He set his face against showing any pain, and held his breath until each boot was on. When he was done and straightened up again, he didn't even realizing how closely Buck had been paying attention to his every movement.

As he stood, he slid first one arm then the other into the sleeves of his leather coat, strapped on his gunbelt, and tugged on his hat.

"I 'preciate the loan of your shirt." He told Buck. "I'm gonna get some shut eye."

Getting himself into the wagon was a painful experience. It didn't matter if he put pressure on his arms or on his legs, it just hurt. Vin pulled the gate shut behind himself and tied the canvas closed. The wagon was the closest thing to a home he'd ever owned, and it even came chock full of things, crates and boxes. Most of them Vin hadn't even gone through, it was just freight and wares that came with the wagon when he bought it off that drummer who'd seen the elephant.

He picked his way through the boxes and crates now, to the little spot near the front he'd cleared for himself. Layered with an old tick and some worn blankets, it made a handy spot to rest when he didn't want to be really inside or really outside either. He'd set it out so that laying down, he couldn't be seen by anybody standing at the tail, but left a couple of good spy holes of his own between the boxes and crates.

This time though, Vin sat cross-legged on his 'bed' and slowly stripped off his hat, his holster, his jacket, Buck's shirt, and his undershirt. That last one came off reluctantly, some of the fibers already drying into the scrapes and cuts. He laid them all out of the way, keeping the gun handy, and did the best he could to rub the salve into the wounds on his back. He missed some, he knew. He knew it couldn't be helped.

Figuring he'd done the best he could, Vin capped the tin, and began the painful process of dressing himself again. Then he curled into the little space, hand on the stock of his gun, and set himself the task of resting.

to be continued


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Chris got to his room, he knew was getting sick. His skin had the faint oversensitive tingle of a fever, and a sharp ache was forming at the back of his skull. He didn't expect it was serious, just probably got too cold and wet in the flood this morning. A bath would help. Then a drink.

A bath, then check on Buck and Vin, and then a drink. Since Chris figured he'd find both men either in the bathhouse or in the saloon, he decided that would be the most efficient course of action. He wasn't too surprised not to find them in the bathhouse, but he was surprised not to see them at the saloon.

Not up at Nathan's either, when Chris stopped there after his bath and a drink, meeting up with Nathan just as he got back from checking the Gaskell's baby.

"Buck kept pushing me to finish, saying he was goin' to see Miss Sarita? And Vin wouldn't let me look at him at all, said he was going back to his wagon t'get some rest." Nathan looked Chris up and down. "Something you wanna tell me?"

"Don't even start Nathan. I'm fine. Caught a chill I think, but I'm planning to head to my room. I promise, I'll keep warm, eat proper and stay out of the rain. Will that make you happy?"

Nathan muttered something, but shook his head. "Best get a move on then, if you're promising to stay out of the rain. It's coming back this way, and losing no time doing it."

M7*M7*M7*

Plunk

Plunk

Plunk

Not that Vin was sleeping, but that sure was an annoyance. A drizzle'd started up again, and the moisture collecting in a hollow in the canvas seeped through a worn spot, hitting the wagon floor.

Plunk

Plunk

Plunk

After a few minutes of listening to that, Vin pushed himself up on his elbow and reached between two boxes. Some time before, he'd loosened this particular board for this particular reason, so now he pulled it up and let the water drip right down onto the ground.

Splunk

Splunk

Splunk

Vin gave up and went to the boarding house.

M7*M7*M7*

Chris had left Nathan's and was headed back to the saloon when he saw Vin crossing the main street, looking about as downhearted as a person could be. He was headed to the boardinghouse, he seemed to be coming from his wagon. Chris met him at the boardwalk.

"How're you doin'?"

Vin stopped and looked up at Chris like he didn't know who he was, or he didn't realize he was standing there.

"Is there more trouble?"

"No, everything's steady right now. We checked all the homesteads along the creek, there's a couple lost outbuildings, some livestock that'll have to wait for the water to go down to get back home, but nothing serious."

Vin nodded and started walking again. Chris stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"How're _you_ doing?"

He seemed to be considering it, he looked from Chris' hand on his arm, to Chris' eyes on his, waiting for the answer.

"It'll be okay," he said, and pulled away from Chris. "I just gotta get to my room."

M7*M7*M7*M7*

How was he doing? What kind of question was that? Vin wasn't even sure of the answer he gave Chris, but it sure wasn't the truthful answer. He was in hell, that's how he was doing. Getting stuck in that little hole with the stones pelting down on him had woke up some terrible feelings that he thought were long gone silent. Fear and disgust and anger and helpless rage filled his throat and seemed to have crawled in between his brain and his brainpan. The feelings sat on his shoulders and dragged at his coat and if he didn't get away by himself and soon, he was afraid he'd break down right in front of everybody.

Getting to his room didn't make him feel any better, but at least he was alone. Nobody would come to his door and even if they did, he didn't have to answer them.

He slung his holster over the bedstead and set his hat and coat over the chair. He wanted to lie down and fall asleep and not think about the memories. A dozen voices clamored in his head but the one he could hear most clearly if only he listened to it was the one he ignored; the one that would comfort him the most was the one he shut out.

It was only late morning, but Vin felt completely empty and exhausted. He lay down on the bed, turned on his side to keep from aggravating the scratches on his back. Sleep would make it better. He'd go to sleep and wake up and the voices and the sharpened memories would be gone and he wouldn't feel so strongly that he was going to be sick.

Sleep would make it better.

M7*M7*M7*

Around lunch time, Chris met Buck walking to the restaurant. They fell in step together.

"How's Vin?" Buck asked.

"I was hoping you could tell me. I barely got three words out of him."

"Something sure swallowed him whole, didn't it? I don't know - I got a look at his back at the bathhouse, nothing seemed so bad it'd drag him down like it is. Gettin' trapped in that little hole musta been scary, but he wasn't in there more'n a few minutes. He's acting like - I don't know. He sure ain't acting like the Vin we know."

M7*M7*M7*

"_De profundis."_

Vin sat up in bed, heart pounding. The voice had sounded so close, so clear, that he could almost believe Padre had been there. He had to look around his room and assure himself that he was alone.

Padre wasn't there, Vin had left him back in Texas and all he'd heard was a memory inside a dream.

Vin picked up his hat and coat and gunbelt and left the boardinghouse.

M7*M7*M7*

The saloon was too busy and the restaurant was too - well, Vin didn't feel like eating anything. He kept to the shadows and walked the boardwalk looking for somewhere to be. He came to the jail, dark and empty and just the kind of place he was looking for right now. He slipped inside and lit the lamp then built a fire in the stove.

He pulled a chair close to the stove and settled in, waiting for the fire to heat up enough to drive away the chill that filled his bones.

When he woke up this morning, he sure didn't expect the day to turn out like it had. It'd been a long time since he'd thought about it, his childhood. Even longer - years - since he'd felt that suffocating panic and even then it'd been in dreams, not in his waking life.

He pulled the spyglass out of his coat pocket and considered it a long while. It hadn't been so long that he'd thought on Padre but it'd been the longest time since he'd heard him, since he'd felt him so close he could swear he was just about to walk in the doorway.

Feeling Padre so close could only bring up the memories of how he met him and how he lost him. Those were the hardest memories of all. He shoved the spyglass back into his pocket and dug the heel of his hands into his eyes. He had to let the memories go. He had to make the memories let go of him. Until that happened, he was going to be in hell.

M7*M7*M7*M7*

Chris let himself into the jail. Walking past a little earlier, he'd seen Vin inside, sitting next to the stove. The cells were empty so he wasn't in there guarding anybody. He was just sitting in there alone, in the gray dimness and yellow lamplight.

He looked up slowly as Chris shut the door behind himself.

"Is there trouble?"

"No, town's quiet."

Chris took the other chair and handed Vin a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.

"Nobody's seen you around, I thought you could use that."

Vin unwrapped a package of sandwiches and some oatmeal cookies. He stared at them a moment then finally looked at Chris.

"Thanks."

Chris settled back in the chair and stretched his legs out to the stove. He set his hat on the floor next to him.

"I'll be glad when this rain stops. I sure hate the dampness."

"Yeah." Vin took a bite of sandwich and chewed on it, staring at the stove. "Things start to get mildewed."

"After this morning, I didn't think I'd ever get warm again."

"Yeah."

Chris knew something was going on with Vin but he didn't want to come right out and ask. The same as he wouldn't ride out after Vin just to make sure he found shelter in a storm, he didn't want to jump to the conclusion that something was wrong that Vin couldn't take care of. But the same as he wouldn't leave Vin out on the trail if he knew he'd been hurt, Chris didn't want to leave Vin alone if something was wrong.

"You all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm tired. I'm - fine." But his answer sounded too flat for Chris' liking. "I gotta tell you Chris, I ain't so good company right now."

Chris reached over to pull a cookie from the brown paper.

"Good thing I ain't looking for company then."

They sat a while not saying anything. Vin finished the sandwiches and took two cookies and offered the last cookie to Chris.

"Nathan said that baby is going to be all right."

"Yeah, 'til next time." Vin said bitterly.

"Next time what?" Chris was surprised to hear anger in Vin's remark. "Reckon if they'd known the flood was coming, they woulda took better care..."

"Pfft, my Ma tried plenty a'times to get rid of me. If she couldn't do it, reckon it's pretty hard to do..."

"What're you talking about?"

"What?" Vin blinked up at him.

"Your Ma?" Chris asked. Vin frowned like he didn't realize what he said, and didn't say anything else. All Chris knew about Vin's mother was the little bit that she'd died when he was five. Vin never offered anymore about her, and Chris never asked.

"She never wanted me..." Vin said, the sentence drawn out on a breath of sadness. He crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the stove. "She still don't want me..."

"I thought she was dead." Chris asked in surprise. "Sorry - none a'my business..." he started to say, but was stopped by the look on Vin's face in the lamplight.

"Vin - I thought she died when you were five." he repeated gently.

Shaking his head again, Vin took a deep breath. "She mighta well died then. Wish she did, she never wanted me. Used t'hafta hide me whenever folks came around. Used to call me - folks used to call me - a bomb - a bomb in a -" The concentration showed on his face as he tried to remember the word.

"An _abomination_?" Chris said, louder and more dismayed than he'd intended.

"Yeah, that's the word." Vin nodded. "They used to say it just that way too...said I was cursed, that's how come I got a crooked back."

"How the hell could you be an abomination?" All Chris could think of was the quiet man who used his time and talents to help others. Vin shrugged.

"My folks wasn't married." As though that explained it all.

"So?" Chris almost demanded. Vin seemed a little surprised by the vehemence, but Chris couldn't imagine any child being called an abomination. That is was his friend, even twenty years ago or more, truly angered him.

"My Pa, he was a widower. Got likkered up, and forced her. Forced my Ma. She was only thirteen when I'se born." Vin closed his eyes and took another breath that wasn't deep enough. "She never wanted me..." he sighed again.

Well, thirteen was young to have a baby, Chris could maybe understand a child mother being short tempered and run ragged trying to overcome scandal and shame while trying to raise a son.

"Why'd you say she died when you five?" he asked.

"That's how old I was when I found out..." Vin said.

"Found out?"

"That he was her Pa too..."

to be continue


	6. Chapter 6

Chris was giving him a hard look. For the rest of his life, Vin wouldn't be able to figure what had made him tell Chris that. He turned to Chris, trying to think of some way, some lie or some story to backtrack his words and make Chris forget he'd ever said them. He was focused so hard on trying to think of something that when the door to the jail opened, he jumped out of his chair and backed several paces toward the cells.

He didn't know what or who he expected to come through that door but it was Josiah, stopping halfway through the doorway, obviously seeing his distress.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting." Josiah looked from Vin to Chris. "Vin, I just wanted to see how you're doing after this morning."

"I - I'm fine. Sorry. You startled me. I -." Vin looked at Chris, wondering - if he couldn't take back what he'd said - if Chris would tell anyone else. " - I reckon I musta dozed off." The back door wasn't too far away; if he had to leave fast, he could leave that way.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, I just wanted to check on you."

"No, I'm fine. I'm - thanks but - I'm fine. I think -." He looked at Chris but could read nothing in his face. "I'm gonna go back to my room. Get some sleep. Get - just get to my room."

Josiah stepped into the jail, moving out of the doorway and Vin made his escape. As he cleared the doorway Josiah asked,

"Let me walk with you?"

"No - no thanks. No."

And Vin fled into the rain and gloom.

M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*

Chris felt like he'd been punched. He was so stunned by Vin's revelation that he felt like he couldn't draw a breath.

"What did I just walk in on?" Josiah asked him.

"I have no idea." Chris answered honestly.

"Something about being down that hole today opened something up from Vin's past."

"How do you know that?" Chris asked Josiah, surprised. Josiah couldn't have heard what Vin said.

"Just call it a feeling." Josiah told him. "Something about being trapped in that hole has stirred up a lot of pain in his soul. He shouldn't be alone."

"Didn't look to me like he wanted anyone with him." Chris said.

"All the same Chris - he shouldn't be alone."

M7*M7*M7

Vin thought he was headed to the boardinghouse, his bed, and oblivion but he looked up from his determined walking to find that he was at the opposite end of town. Instead of turning and walking all that way back down the boardwalk, he turned down an alley to skirt around behind the buildings and avoid everybody he might run into.

He didn't feel sick but he wanted to be sick. Maybe then the knot of anguish in his chest would go away.

Tomorrow he'd leave town. He'd ride away somewhere else where nobody knew. Chris he could trust not to tell, but even if they never said another word about it, Chris would _know_. Vin would see it in his face whenever he looked at him. It was bad enough hiding it from himself, he didn't want to have to work to hide it from anybody else.

Almost to the boardinghouse, Vin turned back up an alley to get to the main street. As he neared the corner, he heard his own horse approaching. Expecting to encounter a horse thief, he pulled his gun and took aim where he expected to see the head of a man on horseback.

But it was Chris, riding his own horse, leading Vin's, fully saddled. Vin roughly reholstered his gun.

"What the hell you doin' Larabee? Damn near got your head shot off."

Chris ignored that.

"C'mon. We're going to my place. Got too much a'this town under my skin." The way Chris said it, it wasn't a request. Vin considered it a bit, then nodded. "And don't forget the medicine Nathan gave you." Vin put his hand into his pocket where he'd tucked the tin of salve.

"How'd you know he gave me something?"

"Because you're hurt and he's Nathan " Chris tossed the reins to him. "C'mon, I got the fixin's for supper. Let's make tracks."

M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*

Nope, Vin decided as he rode along in the misty drizzle, he wasn't gonna say one more word to Larabee. He done spilled as much of his past to him as he figured he ever would, and nothing but nothing would drag another confession out of him.

It was bad enough, what Chris already did know about him. Well, the bounty weren't nothin' – Vin knew Chris'd never turn him in for that. From the minute he looked up to see the man offering to walk with him to save Nathan from lynching – as casual as though they were going for a Sunday stroll – Vin knew. When Chris stopped JD from back shooting one of the low-down mongrels who was gonna murder Nathan, and took on the struggle of Rain's people for a measly wage he wouldn't keep anyway – Vin knew the bounty wouldn't be no temptation to Larabee, and so he told him about it.

And him knowing Vin couldn't read – well, that was okay 'cause Mary was teaching him how now. But it'd sure been a hard moment when he knew Chris knew. He'd gone through his whole life not knowing, and not needing to know how to read or write. The times when maybe it woulda been a help, well, he got through. But now – Vin knew he was the only one of the Seven couldn't read. Even Casey could read. Hell, even Billy could read. But learning had never been important to him – until that moment he knew Chris knew.

But why the hell he'd told Chris what he told him at the jail Vin didn't think he'd ever figure out. He'd buried the whole thing so deep and so far away from himself that even he was surprised at its reappearance. It'd been years since he thought about it.

Or maybe he thought about it all the time and was just surprised to hear himself say it out loud.

But dammit all to hell, Vin decided he wouldn't say one more thing about it to Larabee, no matter what.

M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*

Chris rode slightly behind Vin. The rain wasn't doing him any good. The tingle had progressed into chills, and his headache was sending ragged blades of pain down his neck. He just wanted to get to his cabin, build a fire, and get warm. Then again, he'd settle for just getting to the cabin so he could get out of the rain and fall down. Whatever else might happen after that, he really didn't care.

He couldn't even remember now why he was bringing Vin out to the cabin. It must've seemed like a good idea, back when his brain could still formulate ideas. The rain, maybe. It was raining, and Vin was hurt, and his damn wagon offered as much protection as a lace curtain. So the idea must've been to get Vin out of the weather.

Okay, good. That was one thing at least Chris wouldn't have to think about anymore.

Since here they were out in the blasted weather anyway.

M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*M7*

Finally the cabin came into sight. Vin urged his horse to the corral and dismounted, tying the reins to the top rail. Chris brought his horse in next to Vin, but didn't dismount. Vin cast a glance upwards to him. He didn't look good. There was a high flush on his cheeks, and he was shivering harder than even this weather called for.

"Y'all right there Chris?" Vin asked. Chris shook his head. Vin walked around to the left side of Larabee's horse. "Y'best get inside then, I'll see to the horses."

"Yeah." But he didn't move. He closed his eyes as though he was in pain. "Just as soon as the world stops spinnin'." Vin waited a bit, wanting to be nearby just in case. Slowly, Chris dismounted, his knuckles white on the saddle horn. He stayed steady on his feet though, and made a move toward his saddlebags.

"Leave your gear, I'll bring it in go on inside "

"Yeah." Chris repeated, and made his way to the cabin.

M7*M7*M7

When Vin was done with the horses and had followed Chris inside, he found Larabee sitting on the edge of his bunk, with his head in his hands, still shivering. He'd only managed to get his hat and duster off, and those lay on the bed beside him.

Vin set the saddlebags on the small table near the woodstove. He didn't say anything to Chris, just got the fire going in the stove and some water on to boil. After he took off his hat and jacket, he looked through the couple of sparse cupboards that hung on the wall, and gathered some supplies. He let Chris stay sitting up until everything was ready, then walked over with a cup.

"Here, drink this."

"What is it?" Chris looked up suspiciously.

"Old family recipe." Vin said, then realized what he'd said and who he'd said it to. He pushed the cup at Larabee again. "Y'just drink it then get under the covers. It helps you sweat out the fever." When Chris still eyed it suspiciously, he added: "It's whiskey and sugar and hot water and some feverfew won't kill you. I ain't alive 'cause I'm stupid y'know."

Chris reached out to take the cup while he studied Vin. " never said you were "

to be continued


	7. Chapter 7

With Chris tucked under the blankets, and seeming to be asleep, Vin sat in the hard chair next to the stove. Out of habit, his fingers itched to do something. His gun didn't need cleaning, and he didn't want to disturb Chris by playing his harmonica. He glanced back at the bed, feeling an odd ache overtake him again. There'd been a few times when he'd seen Larabee pass an afternoon reading a book. At first, it surprised him that a man so hard and lethal would just sit and read.

Once, he got his gumption up enough to casually ask Chris what it was he was reading. Vin couldn't say now what it'd been, but he could sure remember what it felt like to hear Chris talk of sailing ships and far-away places. He'd been so caught up in the story that it took a couple seconds for him to realize Chris had offered to loan him the book, and a calm panic overtook him, until he found the sense and breath to say 'sure, now that y'spoiled the ending for me.' and Chris frowned at him a second or two, then just shrugged.

It'd be nice to have it now, that book and the gift to read it. Nice to slip into somebody else's life for awhile and forget everything. Vin took another glance back at Chris.

Well, almost everything.

M7*M7*M7*

After a little while, and no chore came to mind or to hand, Vin rummaged the little tin of salve out of his jacket pocket and went to a corner of the cabin that was blocked from Chris' view, to take care of his scrapes again. Some of the scabs had dried and stuck, and bled when he pulled the woolen fabric away from his skin. Same as before, he did the best he could, reaching as many wounds as he could with the salve, then got himself dressed again and came back out into the cabin.

He put some more wood into the stove, set some coffee on to brew, and emptied Chris' saddlebags onto the table. The drizzle outside tapped on the shingle roof, and the heat from the stove caused steam to build on the windows. Any other day like this would have him checking his tack and making repairs, passing the rest of the time in the saloon with one or another of his friends, or by himself sometimes.

But that – being by himself – happened less and less as time went on. As he spent time in this town, around these men. He generally felt comfortable with 'em. They were each of them men with pasts that didn't bear up under much prying, so none of them pri. As long as a man was true to his word, kept a confidence, defended the defenseless – Vin shook his head. He was sounding like the Padre now. That wasn't a bad thing though, and the memory of the man warmed Vin.

"I miss you." He whispered into the chilly cabin.

M7*M7*M7

Tucked under the blankets, but not really sleeping, Chris watched Vin moving around the cabin. He thought for sure Vin was wearing one of Buck's shirts, and he looked like a kid trying to wear his father's clothes, the thing was so big on him. Vin sat and stood, searched for something in his jacket set over the back of a chair. He went out of Chris' line of sight for a few minutes, then came back, wiping his hand on Buck's shirt. Made some coffee and set out the foodstuffs for supper. Now, finally, he was back in the chair, with the big wooden bowl in his lap, peeling the vegetables for the stew.

Chris watched him, watched the fine, long fingers lightly handle the bulky utility knife, peeling potatoes just as thinly as Sarah ever did. He watched, and knew that he was staring, trying to catch out some sign or suggestion in Vin's movements or build that would square with what he'd told Chris in the jail.

He'd heard stories growing up of course, whispers of his mother and aunts and neighbor ladies, tales of monstrous deformities and slobbering imbeciles who never learned to walk or speak or take care of even their most basic bodily necessities.

And there sat Vin Tanner, with a sharp mind and a deadly eye.

There'd been a family in Chris' part of the county, back when he was growing up. The father was gone a lot, leaving a half-grown boy to be head of the family. He'd been about Chris age, and everybody said he was odd. Didn't talk much, never spent more time around folks than he absolutely had to. Always too thin, too dirty, and too tired. He told some folks that his Ma was dead, some he told that she was laid up with ague. Some he told it was none of their damn cross-eyed business where his Ma was or what she was doing so why didn't they take their old crone noses outta his business and put 'em back up in the air where they belonged.

Curious as any of the other boys in the area, Chris and a bunch of the others snuck into the family's farmyard one day. There was the mother, nice as you please, sitting on a rocker on the front porch, talking a blue streak to the boy while they shelled peas. Chris didn't think she even took a breath.

The next time they snuck up, she was in the rocker again, head down, not moving, not talking, only moaning loudly, with the boy sitting on the step, looking like he was crying.

The last time they went, she was in the yard, shrieking like a banshee, chasing the boy with a sickle, calling him a devil and yelling that she had to free his soul from his body, and Chris heard himself yelling 'run! run!' to the boy, to his friends, to himself, until finally the boy made it up a tree where she couldn't get him, and the crowd of peeping boys ran for their lives.

Word spread through town, and the family moved on not too long after that, and Chris never did find out what happened to that boy. He didn't know why he thought of it now, except that it was a hellish way for a boy to grow up. Now that Chris was grown up, he often wished that - instead of peeping - he'd befriended the boy and maybe helped him with his crushing burden.

So, why was he thinking of it now? Because there was another boy, grown to a man under unbearable circumstances that he didn't create but bore the brunt of anyway. Word wouldn't get out this time, not unless it was Vin's doing, still, Chris had the urge to guard him. Tanner had the looks and habits of a rough, wild man, but Chris guessed that inside the flint exterior, Vin had a vulnerable soul. He saw it in the way Vin cared for Nettie, and stood up for Josiah, and Chris sure heard it in the words of that poem that Vin didn't know everybody else knew he wrote. And Chris was gonna make damn sure nothing came along to crush the life out of that soul.

Just as soon as he was well enough again to get out of this bed.

to be continued


	8. Chapter 8

Lingering in a half sleep of fever and fatigue, Chris felt a roughened hand settle on his forehead. Nathan? Must be Nathan But he could recognize a different shape and texture to the fingers and calluses than he was used to from Nathan, and he pulled his eyes open to have a look at the man sitting on the edge of the bed.

He found the cabin layered in darkness, with everything he could see – even the waning daylight out the windows – a different shade of gray, and the rain still drumming on the roof. Vin sat next to him, with his hand on Chris' forehead, but he wasn't looking at him, so Chris got to watch him a few moments unaware. He had an almost dazed look on his face, staring out into the gloom of the cabin, and Chris wondered what he was really looking at.

"Am I that bad?" he asked. Vin seemed to startle a little bit, but not enough that Chris could be sure. He lifted his hand and turned his eyes back.

"Still fevered, ain't broke yet. I'll get y'another dose, if you're up to drinking it. Supper's been ready awhile, if you think you could eat something too."

"Think I'll start with the whiskey and water, see what I can handle after that."

Vin nodded and stood to walk back to the stove. Chris watched him still, wearing Buck's shirt that was just too big on him, hat and jacket and gun belt set out of the way but still handy, and walking stiff and brittle, no doubt from the damage done to him in the cave. Chris pushed himself up to sitting, leaning back against the meager headboard.

"Y'oughtta stay laying down." Vin admonished him, without even looking back. "You're sick – in case it slipped your mind "

" had worse " Chris answered him lightly, but regretted it as he saw Vin freeze suddenly, as though he'd been stung. Chris hoped that Vin didn't think he was mocking his own words back to him from this morning. "Ate some of Buck's cookin' once "

"Ain't nothin' a dose a'castor oil won't cure " Vin said as he came back with the cup.

"Castor oil? Thanks – I'll take the suffering instead." Chris tried to keep his voice cheerful – Vin's voice was as stiff as his walk. "How are you doing?" he asked as he accepted the tin cup. Vin shrugged and sounded sarcastic.

"_Had worse__" _

"What kinda worse are we talking about?" Chris asked it casually. Vin shook his head and headed back toward the stove.

"You don't wanna know."

"Yeah, I do wanna know."

"Then I don't _want_ you to know, all right?" Vin was sounding snappish, but Chris didn't want to waste the chance to talk with Vin alone.

"Vin – what you told me in the jail "

"I didn't tell you nothing in the jail. Okay?" One sleeve of the big shirt gave up and unfolded itself down his arm. He twisted it back up toward his elbow. "Some things are just trash and best left buried."

"Vin –."

"Leave it Chris – will y'just please leave it?"

"Then you can take this back " Chris indicated the cup Vin had just given him. Vin shot him a disgusted look, but made no move toward Chris.

"Save your breath. You're fixin' to tell me how the fever y'got burning inside of you ain't no different from what's burning in me, and if I ain't gonna take care of what's ailing me then why the hell do I care what's ailing you " He waited a moment, until Chris shrugged in agreement. "Ain't alive 'cause I'm stupid y'know." He huffed and turned back to the stove. "Y'wanna eat, r'what?"

"Well, with an invite like that, how could I refuse?" Still Chris tried to sound casual and unconcerned, though he was anything but. He got no response at all from Vin, who just stirred the stew in the cast iron pot. Chris drank down his dosage in a gulp, tossed the blankets back off his legs and stood up. The fever and chills left him a little wobbly, but he managed in his stocking feet to get to the small table.

"You fall down and I ain't pickin' you up." Vin threatened. Chris set himself in the closest chair with a relieved sigh.

"Too late, I made it by myself."

"Still gotta get back to the bed."

"Did you eat?" Chris asked, instead of continuing that conversation.

"Had some. Could have some more, you think you could take the company." The bitterness was gone, replaced with a soft tone that made his statement sound like a wish. He didn't turn to look at Chris until the sentence was out and gone. Chris didn't want to joke now; he nodded. In a few minutes, both men had plates of stew and cups of water in front of them at the table. Vin picked up his fork, then hesitated.

"Y'ever say grace?" he asked, a question, not an accusation. Still, it struck Chris as odd, he'd never known Vin to say grace.

"Not since I lost Sarah you?"

"Long time ago, used to " he started eating though without saying it now. Chris wondered if Vin was just reminiscing, or maybe giving him a different opening to ask about his past. Instead, Vin gave him a whole new thought to work on. "Lived with a padre for awhile, a missionary? Came from Baltimore I think. He always said grace, even if all we had between us was some water and spoonbread."

This took Chris by complete surprise, but he tried not to show it. Vin had offered a lot of different bits of information about himself in the short many months they'd known each other. Chris had never sorted the bits, or tried to piece them into a whole picture. But this piece just seemed to stick out.

"You live with him before you was a buffalo hunter? Or after you was a bounty hunter?" Chris tried to not let his surprise show. Vin didn't answer immediately. Chris was beginning to feel uneasy with the silences - something totally unexpected lately seemed to come out of them.

"I'se never a buffalo hunter..." he offered quietly. Now Chris had no answer, and Vin looked up at him. "Hell, no buffalo t'hunt once I gained age. After the war, the Army gave free ammunition to the buffalo hunters there was, just so's they could starve out the Indians..." Vin lowered his head again. "I'se never no buffalo hunter."

Chris wanted to ask if Vin was ever a bounty hunter either. He'd just always taken Vin at his word, now he began to wonder. But unless Vin'd somehow arranged the whole scheme with Eli Joe and the fake marshals back in town, that mess seemed real enough to Chris. He'd seen the bruises they left on Vin when he'd tried to escape the jail. He didn't mean to - he'd gone up to Nathan's looking for Vin that night, and walked in on Nathan applying a large poultice to the even larger mottling of purples and blues all up and around one side of Vin's ribcage.

That's when he'd seen all the scars. He'd seen them before, but never so completely and so close up. They were mostly on Vin's arms and back and shoulders. Chris just figured he'd gotten them buffalo hunting.

But - he'd never hunted buffalo and his mother was alive. What else might not be true?

"Where'd you get all them scars?" Chris tried to choose his tack carefully, but there suddenly seemed so many pitfalls and pretense. His voice sounded mildly suspicious, and he knew it.

"Here and there." Vin scooped up a forkful of stew, but hesitated raising it to his mouth. "Most when I was a littl'un."

"The padre do it to you?" and for the first time in the conversation, Vin turned true anger on Chris. His grip went white on his fork and his voice went low and dangerous.

"_No. You don't ever say anything like that about him. He was a good man and he took real good care a'me. He never laid a hand on me. Never let nobody else do it either." _

Chris felt mildly peeved. It wasn't like he'd introduced this topic of conversation at all.

"Didn't mean to accuse Vin...are they the 'had worse' you think I don't want t'hear about? Those scars?" Vin didn't say yes, he didn't say no. He let go of his fork, picked up his cup, and sat back in his chair.

"I'm sorry I told you anything." It was an honest apology. "Didn't mean to - don't know where it all came from."

Chris had an idea where it all came from - from the weariness of carrying a painful heavy burden and thinking maybe there was somebody might help carry it, or know a way to make it lighter.

"You got those scars when you were a kid?" Vin nodded. "It have something to do with - your parents?"

"Kinda, I reckon." He took a long swallow of water. His voice, when he answered, was extraordinarily disinterested. "Folks in town realized how I'd been made - they stoned me."

to be continued


	9. Chapter 9

Vin recognized, from longer ago than he could remember, the stunned silence that filled the cabin and shoved at him from across the table. Lord, he wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else. He talked too much. Dammit, he was always just saying too much. What the hell kinda reaction did he think he was gonna get from Chris? '_gee you've had a hard life, want some coffee_?' He stared down into the cup of water, that shook slightly in his grasp. No - there'd just be that dead silence between them, until Vin took his excuse and rode away.

It always seemed to come to that. He knew the silence and the stares from as far back as he could remember anything. It wasn't until his earliest days in bounty hunting that he realized what they meant - knowing just as soon as he sensed them that he'd been marked as an outsider, as a threat. The best he could hope for when that happened was to be able to leave with his skin as intact as possible. The worst was that the ones who felt threatened would do their best to kill him.

No different than when he was a kid.

Slipping away unnoticed was sure out of the question here, though Chris wasn't gonna try to kill him. But he was staring, and he was silent. Vin was an outsider, he was a threat. He had to leave.

"I'm just gonna get my gear together and go..." Vin mumbled down into his cup of water. "If you want, I can send somebody back out to you - otherwise...otherwise..."

Otherwise what?

A long endless empty road opened before Vin in his mind, and any other choice no longer existed for him. Just get up and go, out of here, and away from Chris. Away from the sound of his own voice, spilling out his secrets and shames, like a kid who couldn't balance a parcel that was too big for him.

He wasn't expecting an answer from Chris - he didn't want to hear anything anyway, just pick up his things and leave. He stood up and away from the table, leaving his plate and cup there. Normally he'd clean up after himself, but - what was one more thing Chris could scorn him for? He needed to leave just as fast as he could.

He buckled up his saddlebags, and began to gather up his hat and coat, holster and bedroll. A few more feet, a few more minutes, a few more uncomfortable miles on the back of his horse, and life would start all over again.

Again.

M7*M7*M7

Chris just stared, every other thought finally driven out of his mind. Stoned? Vin said it as easily as saying he'd been caught in the rain. Stoned. His mind tried to find an image that wasn't as grisly as the ones it kept tossing up. He was so stunned that everything seemed to register in his brain a half a minute after it happened, so that Vin was already starting for the door, gear in hand, before Chris realized it was happening.

"_Stoned_?" Never mind the words he'd intended to speak - '_what happened? are you okay? you didn't deserve that - what kind of animals were they anyway?_' and Vin flinched as though Chris had flung one more stone at him. But he stopped, just a foot away from the door. "You were a kid and they _stoned_ you?"

"I'll get Bucklin to come back t'you..." Vin turned, but not enough to look right at Chris. "Rain r'not, he'll be out here in three shakes for you." Then he kept right on, out the door and shutting it behind.

Chris pushed himself up from the table and followed Vin out. He'd expected him to be halfway across the yard by the time his fevered body got there - but Vin stood on the porch, staring up into the gray sky and falling rain. He hadn't put on his hat or coat, or even his gun belt yet. He still held all his things in his arms.

"Vin?" Chris was afraid to say anything else. He was so angry at whoever would stone a child, he didn't want it to become anger at Vin for not wanting to talk about it.

"Been a hell of day." Vin said. The words had an ominous finality to them that Chris didn't like. Weather like this could add to a man's dark mood.

"Ain't hardly over..." he tried. "Soon's the rain stops, the sun'll be out again..." But he knew - a mood like that - even sunshine wouldn't make it better.

There'd been gunfights Chris wondered how he ever let himself get involved in; incidents like Nathan's lynching when he knew why he was involved; and times when whatever was happening was just so ludicrous, he expected that somewhere the Good Lord was having a laugh at his expense.

Then there were times frightening and intense, like when Wickes abducted Mary, or Buck faced down the scum who was threatening Inez. Even when Ezra got shot trying to sneak off with all that money, Chris found himself standing in that place inside himself where half of him was making plans and isolating threats, reviewing the details and flushing out the defects of every move he intended to make, while the other half took a quick and thorough look at the person he wanted to protect, judging their injuries, visualizing how close help was and what he needed to do in the meantime. Chris was in that place now with Vin.

In this case, the threat and the help seemed to be one in the same thing - him.

M7*M7*M7

Vin had no actual desire to be out in the rain and the cold again. The only thing he wanted was to be gone, away from here. Not back to his wagon, not to the boarding house, not back to anywhere anybody could find him who knew where to look. He wanted someplace dry, where he could build a fire and warm himself up some. He'd eaten just now, so he'd be fine at least until the next day. All he needed was to get out of here just as fast as he could ride.

M7*M7*M7

Just as Chris was trying to think of what else he could possibly say, he heard Vin repeating a word, sounding it out to himself. "Prah - sip - it - tuss." he whispered a few times.

"What?" though Chris had the idea Vin wasn't talking to him.

"Precipitous." Vin said, still looking into the weather. "Ezra said doin' something too fast is called 'precipitous' and that it sounds like 'precipice' on account if you go too fast, you can go right off a cliff..." He huffed out a little laugh then. "He said too that rain is called..." He hesitated, trying to remember the correct pronunciation and not quite getting it. "...'presapatation'..." He shook his head. "So, here I am, riding out too fast in the rain, likely headed for a cliff...I gotta stop talkin' t'Ezra." His arms sagged then, as though everything was suddenly too heavy to carry. "Oughtta just stop talkin' to folks altogether."

"I ain't a threat Vin."

"No, you ain't." Vin agreed. "But your knowing is."

"My 'knowing' ain't so dangerous you gotta ride straight outta here and maybe get yourself a harm." Chris waited, but Vin didn't answer. "Why'd you tell me at all Vin?"

"I don't know."

"I'm guessing your Padre knew about your parents?" No accusations now. The unknown missionary so obviously meant something to Vin, Chris thought it might do well to get Vin back there, even in memory.

"Yeah, he knew. Seemed like everybody knew about it pretty directly." Vin sounded weary. He hadn't moved from that spot on the porch, and he hadn't turned to look at Chris, but Chris had the idea that Vin wasn't set on leaving anymore.

"And they stoned you."

Vin's entire body slumped, with an audible sigh. When he did turn, he wouldn't look at Chris. "Y'mind if I go back inside? Stir the fire up a bit? This weather is like somebody chiselin' my bones."

"C'mon." Chris held the door open. "Let's have some coffee."

to be continued


	10. Chapter 10

Vin wanted to drop everything straight away, just as soon as he walked back into the cabin. But his aching arms held on until he could set it all neatly back on the cupboard. "

Y'oughtta sit." he told Chris. He wouldn't look at him though. "Y'ain't lookin' too steady there. Y'should go back to bed."

"I'm fine to sit by the stove for awhile. C'mon, let's have that coffee."

"Yeah. Let me just clear the table and build up the fire some."

So Chris pulled the couple of chairs closer to the stove, poured himself some coffee and took a seat, while Vin cleared away the plates and flatware, and stirred up the fire and put in some more chunks of wood, and straightened out his possessions on the cupboard, and made sure the coffee and sugar were back just where they were supposed to be and –

"Vin - you're running outta things to do. Just get a cup and c'mon."

"Yeah..."

Vin hadn't looked at Chris at all since they came back into the cabin, and he still didn't look at him now as he got his coffee and took his seat. He shoulda just saddled his horse and left. It might hurt some, but somehow the pain of knowing one more person wanted him gone wouldn't be as bad as the pain of knowing that this man wanted him to stay.

Twice Vin lifted his head and opened his mouth to say something. Twice he gave up and stared down again into his coffee. Chris was just looking at him, patient and waiting. Vin had learned in his life to deal with anger, neglect, veiled threats and outright hatred. He wasn't a quick draw but he was a deadly shot; he couldn't track letters in a book, but he sure could track anything else. And the one person he'd come to fear more than anyone else sat now in this chair, in his clothes and Bucklin's shirt - the man who was so desperate for something that he was willing to risk anything.

"You woulda liked him." He said finally, not bothering to lift his head again. "The Padre. He was a good man, but he wasn't soft. And y'sure never had to wonder where you stood with him. Never had t'guess what it was he wanted from you. And he never -." Vin took a hasty swallow of coffee to not have to finish his sentence. The coffee was hot and it burned his throat going down, and for a moment or two, the physical pain blocked out the pain of his memories. "Anyway, I stayed with him from when I'se about eight I reckon. Started out just tendin' his chickens and goats and such. Worked my way up to wrangling the mules and hunting game..."

"How long were you with him?"

"Ten years, or a little more." Vin flicked his eyes up and then down. "He was a good man."

M7*M7*M7

Well, Vin wasn't looking at him, so Chris let a weary smile form, thinking of how hard Vin had worked to protect Josiah from that Pinkerton agent. He'd been surprised at the time how vehement Vin was in his belief of Josiah - even more than Josiah believed in himself. Chris wasn't surprised anymore.

"How'd you get hooked up with him?" Chris wanted to ask about the stoning, but he knew from his own past that a man would only talk about what he'd talk about, and no use trying to force anything else.

"Uhh - I was - it was - he - how d'you mean?" Vin looked up at Chris. He was completely serious. "It was in Texas." He seemed almost frightened by the question.

"When you were eight..."

"Yeah. I reckon I was eight. Nobody seemed to keep much track a'my birthdays back then."

He took another sip of coffee and didn't say anything for a long time, and Chris watched him. Head down, in the shirt that was just too big for him, holding onto the chipped stoneware cup like it was the only thing keeping him safe.

Outside, the rain was letting up, and random fingers of sunlight poked through the clouds at odd intervals. The cabin seemed warm enough now, from the fire in the stove. Though Chris knew it could just be the fever making him warm.

"We should go fishing tomorrow." Chris finally said. "This storm'll have the fish all stirred up, oughtta get us a good catch." He waited, but got no response from Vin. "We can take 'em over to Nettie's, invite ourselves to supper." Just the thought of Chris Larabee inviting himself anywhere should've gotten some rise out of Vin. But still - nothing.

"Vin?" he said it softly. "Are you still with me?" Strangely, Vin shook his head. "He's gone, isn't he?" and Vin nodded. "I'm sorry - hard to lose somebody that means that much to you."

"He was the first one didn't care how I'se made. The first one made me think my life was more'n just that. Wasn't for him, I woulda just crawled away and died somewheres, lessen they just killed me outright."

"Who?" Chris asked, a note of insistence in his voice. "Who was it?" Vin shrugged.

"Who wasn't it?

"OK - who wasn't it?" Chris asked. The look Vin turned up to him was completely baffled.

"What?"

"You said '_who wasn't it'_ trying to kill you. So, I'm asking - who wasn't it? Tell me there was somebody willing to protect a little boy from being stoned."

"Y'don't understand. Things was different out there."

"Things was never so different anywhere Vin to make it right to try and kill a child." Chris couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. He felt the chills coming up on him again, headache too. Vin shook his head.

"I don't want t'tell you anymore about it." he said.

"Okay..." Chris didn't want the conversation to end. "Will you tell me about your Padre? What was his name?"

"Sebastian." Vin answered without even having to think about it. "Sebastian Truex. I think he was from Baltimore. That's back east."

Chris smiled, both at the affection he heard in Vin's voice - and at the helpful geography hint that Vin seemed to feel Chris needed.

"How old a fella was he?"

"Oh, he was old." Vin said firmly, with no hesitation. "Y'know - your age I reckon." Chris was about to take a sip of coffee, but he stopped the cup midway to shoot a glare at Vin, who managed a small smile himself, and shrugged. "I was eight - he was old." But the smile left him, and he swirled his coffee. "Y'oughtta lie down again. You're lookin' fevered."

"Is he the one who taught you Spanish?" Chris asked instead. Vin shot him an amazed look.

"How'd you know? I never told you I can talk Spanish." Clearly he was running through his mind any possible way Chris might've found out. But Chris had figured it out on his own.

"A man goes bounty hunting in Purgatory, and he don't speak Spanish - he don't survive." Chris said, and added quietly to Vin's continued bewilderment, "Neither of us are alive 'cause we're stupid."

"I _was_ a bounty hunter." Vin insisted softly.

"I know." Chris told him. "I'm thinking your Padre didn't teach you that."

"Was on account a'him I learned..." Vin said, and Chris felt a sadness settle on him.

"What happened?" His brain and his mouth formed the words, but did he really want to know what happened to a missionary priest out in the wilds of Texas that was bad enough to drive a kid - a no doubt shy, peaceful, undersized, eighteen year old kid - to become a hardened, deadly, bounty hunter? It seemed Vin had the same idea.

"God Chris - don't ask me that." He was almost pleading, but his voice was without anger. "Why d'you wanna know any of it? How I'se made, how I lived, how I'll die - why d'you care?"

Chris almost asked if Vin would rather be talking to Josiah, or Nettie, or anybody else, but he didn't want Vin to think he was pushing him away. What would either of them say to Vin anyway? Nettie was a tough woman, who didn't waste much time on the past. Not that Chris faulted her for that - surviving this land required that you learn from your mistakes, not carry them with you for the rest of your life. Josiah might tell a story that paralleled what he wanted Vin to understand, or ask questions that would lead Vin to tell exactly what he wanted to keep hidden.

"Why'd you step in when Nathan was gonna be lynched?" Chris asked, and the puzzled look of consternation on Vin's face clearly mirrored his thoughts - 'what the hell's that gotta do with anything?' He didn't answer, so Chris asked again. "Why'd you save Nathan?"

"Don't ask me that."

Chris went on as though he hadn't heard. "Y'got a price on your head that any fool with a pea shooter's gonna try to collect. You coulda stayed hid at the hardware store, not drawn any attention to yourself..."

"_Stop it, Chris_." A warning as much as a plea.

"I know you weren't friends with Nathan then, that's not why you stepped in. Sure wasn't nobody in town gonna fault you for not saving his neck..." Chris saw the white knuckle tremor of Vin's hand on his cup of coffee.

"That ain't what I was talkin' about -." Tanner's voice was low and threatening. In contrast, Chris kept his low and offering.

"Why'd you save him Vin?"

Vin's hands shook so much, Chris worried he'd scald himself with the coffee.

"Why do you care? I could ask you the same damn thing, why'd you stick your neck out to save his? Weren't nobody gonna -"

"I didn't do it to save his neck, I did it to save yours..." Chris' answer apparently took Vin by surprise. He stopped mid-sentence, and his eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"Me?" He almost sputtered. "Y'didn't know one damn thing about me, where I came from, who I was -."

Chris interrupted him again.

"I don't care what a man was, I care what he is. And at that moment, you were a man about to face down a lynch mob for the sake of a stranger only Mary Travis cared enough to try to save."

"Can't imagine he stayed in town, helping people who woulda watched him swing."

"Vin-." Chris' voice warned him not to change the subject.

"No Chris! Don't ask me. I don't wanna go back there. I don't want t'think about when he saved me, and I don't want t'think about when I couldn't save him..."

"But you do think about it, don't you Vin?" Chris asked him. It was beginning to be hard for him to keep his vision straight. He was getting sicker, he could feel it. "You think about it all the time." Vin looked at, and seemed to be trying to say something, but nothing came. Finally, he just pushed himself out of the chair and headed for the door. He threw his cup of coffee under the table.

"I can't stay here. I can't talk about this. I gotta get out of here..."

"Wait - Vin -." Chris stood up, intending to go after Tanner. But the room swam and spun, and a sudden flash of pain cut behind his eyes.

He collapsed on the floor.

to be continued


	11. Chapter 11

When Chris opened his eyes again, he realized he was laying on the floor, with a pillow under his head and most of the blankets pulled over him. Vin sat on the floor next to him, cross-legged, with his hands in his lap. He stared at the far wall of the cabin. The sun had set outside the windows, and a lamp burned in the holder on the wall.

"Well, you said if I fell you wouldn't put me back into bed." Chris said. "I guess you meant it." Vin took a deep breath before turning to him.

"You're a mite heavy, and I'm a mite dragged out." He rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand. "Lord I'm tired.," he breathed. "You think you might be of some help now, I'll get you back into bed." Chris took a trial movement of his limbs.

"Reckon it'll work." He managed to push himself into sitting up. "How long I been out?" Vin shrugged as he got to his own feet.

"Two-bits of an hour I guess. I'se gonna make a run for Nathan, but y'just seemed to be sleeping after the first scare wore off a'me." He pulled the blankets off Chris and set them aside before leaning down to hook his arm under Chris' shoulder. "You feeling okay?"

"I think your Padre must've whacked me for getting you riled."

"_Ha_." Chris was surprised to hear a genuine laugh out of Vin, a sound mixed of relief and tenderness. "He'd do it too." A few awkward movements had Chris back in bed, and he waved off Vin's effort to get him to lie down.

"Let me sit up a bit. Get my head clear."

"I'll get you some water." Vin piled the blankets onto the foot of the bed then went back to the table for the water. The oversized shirt bunched across his back and under his suspenders, and he was rolling up that one sleeve again.

"I got a couple clean shirts that'll fit you better than that one." Chris said. "That looks like Buck's shirt."

"Nah, this one'll do me." He brought a cup of water back to Chris. "Didn't have another clean shirt when me n'Buck got to the bath house, he let me have the loan of this one." After Chris took the cup, Vin laid his hand on Chris' forehead. "Still got the fever." He sounded worried. "I might take myself that run to Nathan anyway. Might be he's got some better remedy."

"I figure I just don't rile you again, then your Padre won't whack me again." Chris said. He could see Vin wanting to say something, and nothing was coming out. Finally he turned away to pull a chair close to Chris' bed. He sat down in it with the slouch of a person who didn't want to answer the questions he knew were coming.

"He saved me." Vin said simply. "They was set on killing me and he saved me."

"_Who_?" Chris demanded. "Who was trying to kill you?"

"Folks." Vin shrugged. "Folks in town."

"But your - your -" Chris stalled on saying it, but he said it anyway. "Your _parents_, didn't they...well hell - didn't they care? Didn't they do something? Anything?"

"No. My p-." Vin ducked his head in embarrassment. "My - Pa - he sent me to work for a family when I'se six or so. Farmed me out, sold my labor. They was all right, treated me okay, 'til I let on one time how I'se made. I didn't mean to," he said and in his voice Chris could hear all the anguish and confusion of that six year old. "I knew I wasn't supposed to say nothing, but the missus one day got me talking about my family and before I knew it I was just blurtin' out how he was Pa to both of us. She turned real hard after that. Wouldn't say nothin' to me 'less there weren't no way to avoid it. Finally she just told me I couldn't work there no more and she took me back..."

"What happened?"

Vin shrugged again.

"She pushed me outta the back a'the wagon like I was a stinkbug, and she kept sputterin' at him '_how dare you_?' and sayin' the whole lot of us should be tarred and feathered, then she tore outta there like you never saw."

He tried a few times to keep talking, but nothing came out. Finally, a soft, anguished sigh shuddered out of him.

"You know what it's like?" he asked. "Standing there, he was just starin' at me. She - my Ma - she was hollerin' at me, calling me names, calling me stupid. Sayin' I never could do nothing right, I was always making trouble for her. And my Pa just stood there, not saying nothing. She just kept on and on, calling me bad names. She grabbed hold a'the back of my neck and pinched on it real hard and shoved me down into the dirt, hollerin' at me still. And he just stood there. And he didn't make her stop. He never made her stop."

M7*M7*M7

Chris was appalled - both at what had happened to Vin, and at the almost casual way he related it. Vin quirked a sad half-smile.

"She wore out after a while, I learned that. I just had t'hold on till she was done squalling at me. It just hurt so - being called names all the time. Feelin' my heart drain out right under my ribs, wanting so much for her not to be that way no more." He rubbed the heel of his hand across his eyes again. "She was always yelling at me."

"What the hell was she taking it out on you for?" Chris exploded. "When the man who did it to both of you was standing right there. Somebody shoulda tarred and feathered him -." His tirade was cut short by Vin.

"_Please don't yell at me_."

"I - what? Ahh hell, Vin." Chris drained the water and gripped the cup in his hand. "I'm not yelling at you."

"Well I'm the only one here...look Chris -." Vin bent his head down and took another couple of twists on that sleeve. "You're tired, I'm tired. We had us a long hard day. I aim to build up the fire and bed down next to the stove. I need to know you're set for the night 'fore I can sleep. All right?"

"All right." It wasn't so much exhaustion as agony that Chris saw on Vin's face. He agreed because Vin needed him to, not because he was ready to give up the conversation. "We should get some sleep."

M7*M7*M7*

Chris laid on his side, and didn't sleep in the dark cabin. The cracks in the stove let out enough fingers of firelight that he could see Vin not sleeping as well on his bedroll on the floor. Chris' mind was busy with a dozen trails of needing to figure it all out - what had happened to Vin then and what was happening to Vin now. And everything that might have happened in between.

He figured he could guess what Vin was thinking about, but if he could choose, he hoped Vin was thinking on good memories with his Padre. It wouldn't do to have him facing down his attackers alone, even in his memories.

Tomorrow, he'd ask Vin to fetch Nathan to the cabin, and maybe see if he couldn't ask him to bring Josiah without Tanner figuring out why Chris wanted him. If nothing else, Vin wouldn't not bring Nathan, and Chris could ask Nathan to send Josiah if Vin wouldn't. Vin needed somebody to talk to about all this, and Chris sure felt like he was doing a piss-poor job of it so far.

Satisfied with his plan, Chris settled himself into the bed and continued to watch Vin. He didn't let himself fall asleep until well after he was sure Vin was asleep too.

to be continued


	12. Chapter 12

The upright porch railing bit into Vin's shoulder as he leaned back against it. Night still covered the shack and landscape, and would for several more hours. He couldn't sleep though, and the floor got too hard for turning over one more time, so he came out for some air.

Even though the rain had stopped a few hours before, the air carried the scent of mud and pine trees. Out in the makeshift barn, his horse whickered - they were both used to traveling any time of the day or night and the animal probably figured if Vin was up, they'd be traveling.

But Vin stayed where he was, leaning against the hard railing. He wanted to ride, wanted to get as far away from this place as fast as he could. But he stayed where he was. He wanted the chance to do this day over, to do his life over.

But he stayed where he was.

He heard the bed and the floor boards complain as Chris came to the door. He seemed to be moving a little too fast.

"I'm still here." Vin said, as Chris pulled the door open. "Don't have to come chasin' down after me. I wouldn't leave you alone here without telling you."

"I'm not worried about me." Chris said. He left the door half open and came out to sit opposite Vin on the low top step.

"How you feeling?" Vin asked him.

"Gettin' better." Chris allowed. "How about you?"

Vin shrugged.

"Couldn't sleep. Wanted some air."

"You want to get away, don't you?"

"I reckon I been wanting to get away my whole life." Vin said. "From one thing or another." But he answered Chris' question. "Yeah, I'd like to get on my horse and just ride away and never look back."

"Are you sticking around just because I'm sick?"

"Would that change the answer to how you're feeling?" Vin couldn't explain it, or maybe he just didn't want to. He wasn't sticking around because Chris was _sick_, he was sticking around because _Chris_ was sick.

"You think I'd lie?" Chris asked him.

"I think you been blind a time or two since I've known you."

"Yeah, well - I'm still gettin' better and I'd rather not see you riding anywhere until daylight."

"Yeah." Vin muttered what almost sounded like an agreement, and rested his head in his hand, rubbing his forehead like he had a headache. "Been a damn long day. Glad to see the back side of it."

"I appreciate you sticking around, keeping an eye on me." Chris said, and Vin looked up at him through his fingers.

"Longest part of the day was crawling into that rabbit hole to get that baby. I hate small spaces, I hate feeling - trapped."

"Gee and you hide it so well."

Vin let out a long breath.

"Tomorrow, when I feel better, you're gonna regret that." and Chris laughed.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Just - anybody who knows you, knows you don't like crowds."

"You'd be surprised how many things I don't like." Vin straightened up and rested his head back against the upright. "You'd think after a day like this I'd sleep forever." He closed his eyes and for a little while the yard was filled only with sound of the wind, and the soft creak of the door swaying on its hinges.

If life would always be like this, Vin thought he'd be happy. A roof over his head if he needed it, pasturage for his horse, water nearby, and no people for miles.

Well, except for one person.

That would be okay.

The upright was still hard against his back, now it was hard against the back of his head. He sat forward again with a sigh.

"You want the bed?" Chris asked. "I can take the floor."

"No, thanks. Not much sleep left anyway. Sun'll be coming up in awhile."

"Yeah, three hours. You can get a lot of sleep in three hours. Especially in a bed."

Vin was about to refuse again. Chris was sick, he wasn't about to make him - or even let him - sleep on the floor. But it'd been awhile since he slept in a bed. The weather had been good the past month or so and in good weather he slept in his wagon. Hell, even in bad weather he slept in his wagon, unless it was howling bad weather. So it had been awhile since he slept in a bed. Chris must've seen it in his face.

"So let me take the bedroll and you have the bed, Vin. You're the one got all tore up saving that baby. You deserve the bed for that if nothing else."

"No, I don't deserve anything. If I'd had a chance to think about it, that baby'd still be in that rabbit hole. I wouldn't a'gone in after him."

"But you did go in after him. And you did get all tore up."

"Had worse." Vin shrugged.

"You deserve better."

The words sent a shock of remembrance through Vin.

"He said that too."

"Who did?" Chris asked, and Vin didn't answer him. "Your Padre?"

"Yeah." Vin could almost feel Padre near him. He looked out into the yard as though he might actually see him out there. "Yeah."

"What happened?" Chris asked. Vin looked at him. With his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see Chris well enough. He wanted to know. Not to torment Vin with the knowledge, not to spread it around the town in a gale of scandal and hearsay, not to do anything but listen.

_Because he cared. _

Realizing that, Vin had to turn away. He didn't want Chris to care. He just wanted things to go back to where he hadn't told all his shames and Chris didn't know that he'd been born under the double curse of his mother being wronged by her own father.

He didn't want Chris to care.

"He died." Never mind the circumstances. _Don't ask about the circumstances._

"How?"

Vin felt the bile and nausea rise in the back of his throat.

"Slowly."

to be continued


	13. Chapter 13

Slowly.

Even just the way Vin said it made Chris' stomach turn. Whatever the circumstances were, if they were enough to make Vin flinch - that was more kinds of bad than Chris wanted to know about.

"Tell me." he said.

"Tell you what?" Vin sounded peevish.

"Everything."

Vin looked at him like he was crazy; even in the relative darkness Chris could see it.

"I wanna know."

This time Vin didn't dispute him. He closed his eyes and turned so he wasn't facing Chris anymore. He took a really deep breath.

"Y'see, we lived about five miles outside a'town. So goin' to town was always a big event, an all day kinda thing. The first time we went there, after I let on to the Missus about me, I didn't know anything bad was gonna go on." His voice changed on that last sentence, he sounded distressed. "I didn't know she was gonna go tell the whole world 'bout us. I didn't know - I didn't know how hard the whole town was gonna take it."

"You were six?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, round about I reckon. And just as stupid as the day is long."

"Why do you say that?"

" 'cause I was. They told me, my - parents - told me not to tell nobody how I'se made but they never said why. Never told me -." Vin ended the sentence with a shake of his head.

"Told you what?"

"Y'see - that first time we went to town after I let on, it was just me and him, he told me not to wander off away from him. I think now maybe he knew, I don't know. I remember how people stopped talking and stared at us when we drove in there. I remember I got scared and I wanted to leave. But he said no, we had to get our errands run then we could go home.

"I hung onto his pant leg so tight he snapped at me to let go, give him some room. People was just staring, gettin' outta our way. The clerk in the dry goods store waited on us like we'd just got skunked. Bank manager said something 'bout us taking our money elsewhere. I don't think we got everything done we was gonna get done in town 'cause we left pretty soon after we got there.

"On the ride home, we was about halfway home I think, I asked him, how come people was acting that way and he didn't answer me. So a little while later I asked him again and he didn't answer me again. So one more time when we was in sight of the house I asked him, one more time -."

Vin stopped and scrubbed his hand across his cheek.

"He backhanded me so hard he knocked me out of the wagon, but he still didn't say anything. He kept driving and I had to walk home."

"That's not right." Chris said.

"I shoulda just shut up."

"No - you shoulda had an answer."

"I learned pretty quick after that to find my own answers." Neither of them said anything again for a few minutes, and Vin put his head into his hands.

"Vin."

"What?"

"When did they stone you?"

"Later." he answered from behind his hands.

"Later?" Chris asked. He wondered if Vin meant he got stoned later, or he'd tell Chris about it later.

"That's what I said." He sat up again. "Took 'em awhile to work up to it y'know? It just -." He seemed to consider his words. " - took 'em awhile."

"So tell me."

"Why?" Vin sounded angry. "Why do you care? Why d'you want to know? What's it to you? It's been over a long time ago."

"Maybe it has. But you're sitting here right now right here with me and it's still hurting you and I want to know about it."

"Ain't still hurtin' me." Vin protested, but he didn't sound too sure.

"You would've been willing to let that baby drown this morning, wouldn't you? Isn't that what you said?"

Vin ran his hand over his mouth but didn't really answer the question.

"I hate feeling trapped."

"Did they trap you before they stoned you?" Chris asked, truly confused.

"Dammit! Will you just - geez." Vin spat the words at Chris. "Will you just shut up? Don't just keep picking at it. _How stupid are you to keep picking at it when I don't want t'talk about it?" _He left the steps and stood a ways away in the dark yard.

Chris remembered seeing another person so angry - himself, when Buck tried to get him to talk about Sarah and Adam. Buck wanted to remember the good times, all Chris could think about was how he'd been responsible for their deaths.

"It's not your fault you know," he said to Vin's back fifteen feet away.

"What ain't my fault?" Vin didn't exactly sound like he cared.

"Any of it. How you were made. They way your folks treated you, how that woman treated you after you told her, how the townspeople reacted. None of that was your fault."

"Then how come everybody treated me like it was?" Vin didn't turn around,

"I don't know. Because they were fools." Chris wanted to go to Vin, but right now he didn't want to crowd him. Vin gave a disgusted laugh.

"Then the world is full of fools."

"Not the whole world."

"Yeah, I can just see telling the others about me. They'd turn and run just as fast as they could."

"None of us knows what the others have seen." Chris said. He didn't have any actual proof, but the lives each man had led sure did leave open the possibility for all kinds of horror.

"Yeah?" Vin asked. He'd turned now and actually sounded hopeful, like maybe Chris did know something. Chris stood up slowly, half from still feeling poorly and half from want to not spook Vin. He crossed a few paces.

"Look at Nathan, God only knows what he saw growing up. I heard stories during the war and they can't all be lies. And Josiah, he's been all over the world. Hell he's been places where cannibalism is acceptable. Buck -." Chris paused. Vin didn't know Buck's history and he hesitated telling him.

"What about Buck?" Vin asked when the silence went on a little too long.

"Buck is the _last_ person who'd scorn you for how you was made."

"What about JD and Ezra?" This time his voice betrayed that he didn't think his history would be acceptable to either man.

"I don't know." Chris said honestly. JD was still so naive, he heard Mary cuss once and still hadn't recovered. And Ezra - well Ezra'd had such a poor raising up it seemed, who knew how he'd react.

"What about you?"

"What *_about_* me?" Chris had to ask, since he *was* the one standing here, the one who'd been here by Vin's side almost all day since he found out this morning.

"Why do you care? Why don't you care?"

"You think I ain't as good as your Padre?" Chris had no idea where that question came from. It seemed to be the right question though when a stunned silence came over Vin.

"What?" he finally sputtered.

"I said - you don't think I'm as good as your Padre? You think he's the only one who could know and still treat you decent? You think so little of me? You think so little of our friendship? I know you been treated rough in your life because a'how you were made, but how far does a man have to go to prove himself in your eyes?"

Vin wasn't even trying to asnwer, so Chris kept on.

"You told me you're wanted for five hundred dollars. Hell, this whole spread didn't cost me five hundred dollars but you trusted that I wouldn't turn you in for the money. How come you can't trust that I won't 'turn you in' this time? You think I put so little value on your pride?"

"I think - I think - no." Vin finally sighed.

Now Chris closed the distance between them. Vin ducked his head and Chris put his hand on Vin's shoulder.

"So tell me."

to be continued


	14. Chapter 14

_So tell me. _

Nothing had ever scared Vin Tanner in his whole adult life like the prospect of telling this story to Chris Larabee. It'd been fixed in him so long to never speak a word about it that the thought of doing it now shook him. He turned and walked around Chris, trying to keep away from him, heading back to the porch.

He didn't know if he wanted to go back into the cabin, he didn't know if he wanted to sit back down here on the steps.

What he knew he wanted he also knew he could never have - to be back in Texas, sitting next to the fire, listening to Padre tell his tall tales of saints and shipwrecks, wonders and miracles. He wanted to be back sitting next to the first person he was ever sure cared about him. Loved him maybe if he dared let himself hope that.

He looked at the cabin door, and then down at the porch. He couldn't have what he wanted. So what would his next choice be?

Finally he didn't choose at all. Standing there, in the dark, in Chris' yard, aching from his physical hurts and terrible memories, he closed his eyes and just started telling the story.

"It kept getting worse, every time we went to town. I guess more n'more folks heard about it. About us. Folks'd ignore us or scorn us or be outright mean. Other kids took to makin' fun a'me. Calling me a freak, or a monster. They'd say – bad things – about us. About what we must be doing out on the farm all by ourselves so far away from everybody else. I didn't even know what half of what they was talking about was back then.

"One time we went there, to town, I always stuck real close to him as I could, as close as he'd let me, 'cause it scared me the way people looked at us. One time, we got apart though and the kids were coming after me. One of 'em threw something at me and that started the others pitching rocks at me and clods of dirt and anything they could find. I tried to run and they kept up with me, 'til finally they had me in a blind alley, with a high fence I kept trying to climb over while they just kept pitching their rocks at me and calling me names.

"Somebody musta finally busted it up 'cause they left. And I just sat there in the alley and waited until he came looking for me. Then we went home."

M7*M7*M7

Vin told the story casually enough, but Chris knew how mean a gang of boys could be. And a gang of boys armed with rocks and cruelty, with a small boy as their target, could do a lot of damage. He pictured a six year old, running for his life, with no one to help him, trapped and battered, finally left alone to sit dazed and bloody in a back alley.

"Didn't your father do anything? Didn't he tell the law about it?"

"He told me to ignore it."

"How do you _ignore _being nearly stoned to death?" Chris asked. He could see Vin shrug.

"I got used to it." Vin answered, and a deep, lethal anger flared up in Chris.

"_Used to it_?" He'd been staying back while Vin told his tale, but now Chris walked up to him so that he faced Vin. "What do you mean '_used to it'_?"

"_I mean it happened a lot." _Vin sounded angry. "It happened every time we went to town. They'd chase me and throw stones at me and wallop me if they ever got close enough. _I got used to it_."

"Why the hell didn't your father do anything to stop it? Why'd he bring you town when he knew that was going to happen?"

"I don't know. You think I didn't ask him? You think I didn't beg him not to make me go? Y'think I didn't run off and hide whenever I saw him hitchin' up the wagon? I dreaded goin' to town and I'd be sick for days knowin' it was comin', and I still had to go. _She _never had to go, and sure as hell nobody was pitching rocks at him."

Chris stepped back and took a deep breath, trying to quell his anger. He wouldn't do Vin any good if he didn't calm down. He noticed that Vin never called 'him' his father.

"What happened?" Chris asked.

"I got real good at hiding. I got real good at nobody seein' me." Vin heaved a sigh like he was about to reveal a long held secret. "I learned to fight dirty. I was young and I was small, but after awhile only the stupidest kids didn't leave me alone."

"Lethal even at seven, hunh?"

"I had to be." Vin said. "I tried anyhow. Wasn't always enough, but sometimes it was." He moved away from Chris, and turned away from him.

"When they'd be after me and I couldn't get away, I'd find anywhere I could to hide. Under porches, in rotted trees, even in a chicken coop when I had to. That's why I hate to be closed in. I run outta air and I get to feelin' that I'll never escape. I hate feeling trapped."

Chris moved closer to Vin, measured steps. He knew Vin didn't like small spaces or feeling enclosed. He'd known that almost from the first day. Vin never said anything outright, but it didn't take a genius to see that he preferred the out of doors and his own company to towns and crowds. Chris never guessed though that such abuse was at the heart of Vin's predilection.

"How bad did it get?" He asked, when he was about an arm's length away. He didn't know why he asked it. How much worse could it have gotten?

"Bad. Not just for what those boys done to me but – bad for how it made me feel. Like I was supposed to take the punishment for what he did wrong. Like he figured somebody had to suffer only he wasn't strong enough to take it himself, so I had to. That was bad, feeling like I had to take all that guilt and shame onto myself. I just figured I had to, that it was my fault, even if I couldn't figure out why it was. Or maybe it was my fault on account of I was the one let it slip. Nobody told me 'til Padre that it wasn't my fault."

"How did you meet him?"

"He stopped 'em from killing me. I really think they woulda killed me that time, back in that alley where they chased me the first time. I'd fought back one of 'em and broke his hand, and they were gonna get me for it. They had big rocks and a length of wood and bottles. I was crushed up against that fence that was too high for me to climb over, and they started getting' their licks in.

"Next think I knew Padre comes through there like tornado, tossing them boys aside like he was pulling weeds. He was big, and all in black, and they run off like a grizzly was after 'em. I was scared of him too, but he didn't hurt me. I was busted up some already and he just picked me up and took me to the doctor's down the way."

Vin walked away from Chris again, but this time he sat on the top step of the porch. The moon was rising, and it filled the dark yard with shadowy light. Chris turned to face Vin, but didn't move any closer.

"The doctor didn't want to take care of me. He told Padre all about me, and quoted something outta scripture, something about the sins of the fathers being visited upon the children. But Padre tells him the bible says the way you treat children is the way you treat the Lord and if he wanted to go to hell, Padre was set to oblige him right there on the spot."

Vin looked up at Chris, with a wry smile on his face.

"Padre weren't one for being vague when he wanted something done. Kinda like some other fella I'm acquainted with."

Chris tried to come up with a clever reply, but his heart and his mind just weren't in it. He shrugged.

"I've never appreciated having to explain myself."

"And you bein' so even tempered and all." Vin joked. He rubbed his eyes with both hands. "Anyway, the doctor patched me up, barely, and Padre was asking me about what happened and why and what the doctor didn't spout off, I told him. I told him the truth about everything. He – my father – found me there. He started to pull me outta there and I made a fuss 'cause I had an idea what it was like to have somebody stick up for me. I knew if I went along quiet I might never have that again. So Padre says he wants to talk to him and the three of 'em go off in some other room. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but it sure was loud, and it sure went on for a long time.

"Finally, Padre came back in. Only Padre. He told me who he was and how he lived on a little patch of land outside of town. Said he was lookin' for a boy to help him do chores. Asked me if I'd like that, like to come live with him. Then he – my father – came to the door and he was just staring at me. All I could think was that maybe if I went with the Padre, I'd never get chased under a porch or into an alley again. So I said I wanted to go with him. My father walked out of there, and I never lived with him again."

Vin sat there quiet for awhile. The pain he was feeling surprised him. He'd always thought he was done with the pain of his past, but he'd stirred it up tonight just as hot and pointed as the first time he lived through it. He looked up, intending to say something to Chris, when he suddenly remembered that Chris had ended his day sick and feverish.

"You gotta get inside." Vin said, standing up from the porch. "You shouldn't be out here in the damp, you'll just get sicker."

"You're not done talking." Chris told him. It sounded more like an order than a reminder.

"So? I can talk inside just the same as outside can't I? Leastways you'd be sitting by the stove, not freezing out here."

Vin didn't wait for any answer, but went back into the cabin and began to add more wood to the stove. Chris came in behind him and shut the door.

"Y'oughtta think about going back to bed." Vin told him. "Any talking I gotta do has lasted this long. Reckon it'll still be here in the morning."

"And where are you gonna be in the morning?"

Vin looked up sharply, but he didn't know if it was because the question was ludicrous or because it was sound. He closed the door on the woodstove and sank into one of the chairs. Buck's shirt bunched up against his back and irritated the scratches and wounds on his back, but he just accepted the pain.

"Running's all I had for the longest time. Learnin' to be invisible. Running away from what's unpleasant is a hell of a lot easier than having to look it in the face."

"Except when it catches up with you." Chris said. He sat in the other chair. "Then it's not just unpleasant, it's downright ugly."

"Then I just run away someplace else."

"No you don't. You might run for safety, but 'running away' ain't you."

"I was gonna run away with Charlotte." Vin challenged.

"And where are you now?" Chris challenged back. Vin didn't answer him. "I expect having to come back and face us that day was a lot less pleasant than what you thought you were running from in the first place."

"You were in danger. There's nowhere far enough I could run away from that."

The silence after that remark stretched out longer than Vin would've thought possible. He didn't know what he thought Chris might say in answer to it, or what he should say, but he didn't think it would be stone silence, with Chris staring at him like he was either trying to fix him in place, or figure him out.

Finally, in a low voice deep with seriousness, Chris said,

"Your Padre must've been a very great man to be able to instill that feeling into the heart of a little boy who'd only known abuse and neglect."

"He was great – he was –."

Vin backtracked through his mind, suddenly unable to recall what they'd just been talking about. He didn't want to talk about Padre, and he didn't want to talk about himself either, not about maybe the good things it seemed like Chris was aiming for.

"He was kind to me. He was –."

But why shouldn't he want to talk about the good things about Padre?

"He was one of the best men I ever knew." Vin finished his thought then. "Never said a false word, never got angry, never took for himself what he could give to someone else. He taught me – he showed me – that I deserved better than I was getting out of life. He was a great man. He was a good man."

And it felt so good to say that about him that Vin didn't draw back from Chris' next, natural question.

"How did he die?"

Vin just felt Padre next to him, letting him let go of all the secrets of his past.

"He'd take care of anybody who came along. Give 'em a place to stay, feed 'em, maybe find them work if he could. He never asked nothing back from 'em either, except to treat people decent while they was with us. We had poor old Indians, too old to keep up with their nations on the move, and their families too poor to have horses to carry 'em. Had a couple old buffalo hunters too, they was with Rome, you know? Their religion? They'd be there for the Padre's services and supper after, so I learned about buffalo hunting too."

He leaned forward to put another chunk of wood in the stove, then glanced around the dark cabin.

"One day, when I was coming on to eighteen, a couple fellas pulled in. They was looking for directions and a meal and they pulled out again after, but Padre musta known something bad was gonna happen. At night fall, he had me take all the old folks and what livestock there was out to a cave a couple miles away we'd use in really bad weather. Told me to stay there, no matter what happened, no matter what I heard. But after I got the folks and such situated, I snuck back."

Vin turned a sad smile on Chris.

"I didn't always do what I was told." He admitted.

"Imagine that." Chris answered with a quiet laugh, and Vin laughed too because he could feel Padre laughing right along with them.

"He used to say, Padre used to say, that I'd make a poor soldier but a good general."

"And so he was a wise man too."

"He woulda liked you, Chris. I think you woulda liked him too."

"I like him now."

"Yeah." Vin nodded, and rubbed at the weariness in his eyes, and got back to his story. "They came back after dark and Padre was waiting for 'em. I saw him in the yard there, in the moonlight. There was three of 'em. He told 'em they was free to take what they wanted and I could hear 'em tearing up our little house there. There wasn't much could be worth anything, except his chalice and his cup, they were gold. They took those, I guess Padre musta hid his blessed wafers 'fore they came. There wasn't any money, nothing worth anything in our house. Our beds was straw. Even our plates and cups were wood and gourds. There just wasn't anything worth taking."

This was coming on to the hard part, the part that Vin hadn't told anyone since he'd buried Padre in the Texas sand.

"I thought they'd leave then. Take what they got and leave. But – they turned on Padre. They had no reason to but they – they turned on him." There was no other way to describe it. "When they started in on hurting him I ran into the yard to stop them. I didn't think that they'd do the same thing to me, only that I had to try and stop them. That was the only time Padre ever got mad at me. You could see they was fixing on killing him and he was yelling at me for coming back to the house. But I couldn't not try to help him."

"No, you had to try." Chris agreed.

"One of 'em, they grabbed me and held me back aways and I kept fighting but it didn't do any good. They built up the fire real good, probably so they could see what they was doing." The next sentence took some doing to get out.

"Vin –." Chris started. Vin thought he'd say, '_you don't have to do this' _but Larabee wouldn't say that after all he went through to get Vin to be saying it. "Saying it out loud makes it easier."

Vin closed his eyes before continuing. Even now the gruesome images flared up in front of his eyes.

"They did things to him I never seen, things I'd never believe." He opened his eyes then to stare at the cracks of light in the stove. "They did things that made it so I'd never be scared of anything again. Took 'em 'til morning to finish with him. They didn't leave much." He took a deep breath. "But what there was lived another three days."

To be continued


	15. Chapter 15

In the dark cabin, Chris stared at Vin who was staring at the woodstove. Somehow, even as the meaning of Vin's last words penetrated his brain, Chris wouldn't let the reality of them sink in. He thought he should say something. He tried to say something but his mouth was suddenly bone dry and the sound that came out was harsh and choked. \

"Y'all right?" Vin asked, as though he hadn't just said what he said. "I'll get you some water. Told you that you shoulda stayed in bed." He brought a cup of water from the table to give to Chris, and stood next to him while he drank it down.

"Vin -." Chris said when he finally could.

"What?"

How could he ask that? What else could Chris be referring to?

"What you just said."

Vin dipped his head and took the empty cup back to set on the table, then bent down to pull his bedroll further away from their chairs.

"What about it?" Vin sat in his chair and gave Chris a challenging look.

"Vin –." Chris couldn't keep the stress out of his voice. _What about it_? Where to start? "How old were you?" Starting at the beginning might be the best place.

"When?" Vin asked back. OK, maybe there wasn't anywhere that was the best place to start.

"When your Padre was murdered."

That seemed to take some of the starch out of Vin's expression and he let himself settle back into the chair.

"Eighteen, or coming on to it I guess."

"So it's been ten years since you lost him."

"I reckon. I lived with him for about ten years too. Wish I'd had longer with him." Then his voice turned hard. "Wish he'd died sooner. Wish he hadn't had to go through that."

"It couldn't be easy to have to watch it."

"I woulda gone through it for him if I could. All he did for me, I woulda died for him. He didn't deserve to suffer like that. I woulda died for him."

"I know you would've." Chris said. He wondered if he should say these next words; he didn't know if they would make things better or worse. "He died for you."

By the wide eyed look of surprise Chris thought maybe that thought had never occurred to Vin. But he said,

"I know. Took me a while to figure it though. I didn't understand why he didn't come to the cave with us. But those men, those – they woulda come looking for us if nobody was at the house. If they could do what they done to a grown man, then a half grown boy and a bunch of old folks didn't stand a chance. Padre knew that. He meant to give us a chance."

"Sounds like one of those saints Josiah talks about." Chris said. "Giving his life for others."

Vin started to answer but then abruptly turned his face away into the darkness. His hands were white knuckled on the chair.

Chris watched the flames through the chinks in the stove and didn't say anything. Out here you grew fast or you died young, he knew that. He'd known that a long time. But the necessity of the growing didn't make the pain of it easier to bear. Sometimes time would lessen the misery; sometimes it felt like only death could.

Sometimes though, like he'd said to Vin, and like Buck had said to him countless times, sometimes talking about your loved ones made the pain easier to bear, because talking about them gave you their strength when your own wasn't enough.

"One of the things I miss most about Sarah was how she could make me laugh." He couldn't be sure Vin even heard him. "I'd say I had a thought and she'd quick mark a circle on the calendar. I'd tell her I brought her a load of firewood and she'd say, 'and I didn't get you anything.' Once I was complaining to her about something that somebody did that I didn't like and she told me, 'If I was right as often as you are, I'd never get anything done.' She was a beautiful woman, but her wit was sharp as a tack." By the end, he was almost talking to himself.

"Padre –." Vin's voice wasn't strong, and he didn't turn back right away. "He liked to laugh too. Sometimes he'd be laughing at nothing I could see, standing out in the yard at dawn, and he said he was having a private talk with the Lord. He said the Lord could be wicked funny." Vin started to relax and he turned back to the stove.

"Kinda like Sarah too, he could just knock you flat with a word. One time we met this fella who was trying get from town to a ranch near us, so we took him on our wagon. He was cantankerous as a cactus. Nothing was good enough. Snapping at us the whole time. Finally we got him where he was going, and he snaps 'How much you charging me for the ride?' and Padre tells him, 'You couldn't pay me enough to take you anywhere.' He was a character." Vin smiled but it didn't last.

"I used to fall asleep, listening to him pray. He'd get up and pray in the middle of the night. And he'd be praying when I woke up in the morning. All that praying he did, you'd think –." He sighed and reached around to idly scratch his back. "I sure do miss his voice."

"How's your back?" Chris asked.

"Hurts. The wool's dried into the scratches. Reckon I'll have Nathan give a look when we go back to town. How're you holding up?"

"Better."

Then they sat in silence for awhile, and Vin put another chunk of wood into the stove.

"Did you ever see your family again?" Chris asked.

"Yeah. Oh yeah. Padre used to take me back there a few times a year. Don't know as they were that happy to see me, and I wouldn't a'gone if Padre hadn't gone with me. My – she – got married when I'se about ten or so. A ranchero from Hidalgo, down in Mexico. I think I've only seen her twice or maybe three times since then. Don't miss her none."

"Have you seen them since your Padre died?"

"No." Vin shook his head. "Once by accident I guess. About seven years ago. I brought a fella into the sheriff at Nogales. He – my Pa – was at the stage line, waiting for 'em to change the horses I guess. I wasn't gonna say anything but he asked how I was. Said he'd heard about Padre. Asked how I was getting on. I told him I was fine and I kept walking."

As though expecting an argument from Chris, Vin turned to him.

"He never protected me." He insisted. "He never did anything for me. The best thing he ever did for me was to send me away. I didn't owe him anything more than that."

"And I'm not saying otherwise." Chris said. He figured Vin was arguing with somebody else.

"Padre – I think Padre woulda wanted me to do more than that. Talk to him, ask him how he was doing. But I couldn't. I lost him – I lost Padre for a lotta years there. After he died and I caught the fellas who did it – it felt like I lost him and everything he ever tried to teach me."

"That's just the grief of losing him the way you did. You didn't lose him, you just kept him where it wouldn't hurt so much to think on him."

"Yeah."

"How long did it take you to catch those fellas?" Chris asked. Vin's eyes glittered in the meager firelight as he answered,

"Seventeen days." Vin took no pride in saying it. "It was just dumb luck I found 'em that fast." He told Chris. "But I woulda hunted them into hell if I had to."

"How did you find them so fast?"

"They started making a habit a'robbin' churches. I figured out which way they was headed and I got there first."

"Doesn't sound like 'dumb luck' to me." Chris said.

"Well, it was. Kinda. After Padre - died," the word still stuck in his throat. "And after we buried him, I lit out for the nearest town to tell 'em what happened and maybe get a posse to go after 'em. I didn't figure to track them by myself, but I sure wanted to be there when they got caught. Padre, he was known in those parts and they got up a posse right quick. I was all over blood though, blood and – and anyway," he tripped over the words. "Before we was headed out, one of the ladies gave me some clothes and I went to have a bath then I went to see was there a church in town. Figured maybe they could let Padre's folks know somehow, let 'em know what happened."

He stopped talking there. His mind still worked images before his eyes, but they weren't images of the story he was telling.

"I thought he looked bad by the firelight," he said. His voice was a whisper. "But when the sun came full up, God almighty Chris." His eyes filled with tears. "The old folks came back at dawn, Tio, and Pepina and One-Eyed Lucy and Doro. The women, they took care of Padre, best as they could. Tio kept bringing water and firewood, and he kept the fire going. I just kept throwing up. That first day, I just kept having to go off and throw up because I couldn't bear looking at him.I didn't even want to be near him."

"You were a boy. You'd never seen torture before. Of course that's how you're going to feel." Chris said, but Vin didn't believe him.

"He saved my life. He raised me. I should've been able to do something for him."

"Vin." Chris leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees. "You were a boy. Your Padre would've understood that."

"I know. He knew how I felt, he kept telling me to go look after the stock or help Tio with the firewood. He knew I wanted to be anywhere else than beside him."

"Wait." Chris sat back in surprise. "He could talk? He was conscious?"

"Yeah. Most of the time he was. He couldn't hardly see and it was hard for him to do the talking but – he knew what was going on. Right up until the end. He was talking to me."

"But -." But Chris didn't say whatever it was that was on his mind, Vin could tell by the way his expression changed. "You stayed with him though."

"Yeah. It got easier. After I had nothing left to throw up, it got easier. After the sun went down again and I couldn't see him so well by the firelight, I sat near him. He was – he – I don't know how he ever stood the pain. We couldn't move him back into the house, he was all – he was – he was just all cut apart and we was all afraid to try and lift him and he said to just –."

Vin had to stop there, his voice wouldn't take him any further. He pressed his hand into his eye and turned away again. Talking about it was just like having it in front of him again, and all the anger and despair and fear welled inside of him. It hurt. God it still hurt so bad.

He turned farther away in the chair, trying to swallow back everything he didn't want to let out and couldn't keep in. But he had to breathe so he had to cry. Tears filled his eyes and ran down his face and spattered on the sleeve of Buck's shirt as he pressed his arm across his mouth to try and block his sobbing.

When he felt the hands, one lightly on his head, one gripping his shoulder, he couldn't hold it in any more. His body bowed down until his head was resting on his arm on the arm of the chair, and he cried.

To be continued


	16. Chapter 16

When Vin broke down, Chris moved out of instinct, the same as he would've if Vin had been shot or was suddenly taken ill. He didn't say anything. Telling Vin not to cry would be as ludicrous as it would've been to tell him not to be sick when he saw his Padre mutilated. Crouched down next to the chair, Chris let his hand slide across Vin's shoulders, trying to be careful of where he thought the scratches might be.

Strange he thought, that Vin would be wearing Buck's shirt. He'd been in a similar situation once with Buck, nearly ten years before, when Buck was still a lawman and he hadn't been able to save a child who wandered into the crossfire of a botched hold-up . Chris hadn't been surprised to find Buck in the back cell of the jail, weeping over the little bloodstained shirt. But he surprised himself when he sat down next to his friend and put his arm around his shoulders.

Neither man had ever mentioned it and Chris figured the same would happen this time.

His heart went out to Vin, both the man here in the dark cabin with him, and the young boy turned into a hardened man almost overnight. Witnessing the torture and slow death of the man who for all intents and purposes was his father probably shocked Vin past the ability to grieve normally. Chris could easily believe this was the first time Vin had so completely let himself feel his pain and his loss.

So he held on. Same as this morning in the cave, when the water was threatening to drown Vin back in that cave's cubbyhole, Chris held on while this wave of darkness engulfed Vin.

When it seemed Vin was calming down, Chris stood up to pour some whiskey into the cup. When Vin sat back into the chair, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of Buck's shirt, Chris offered him the liquor. He took it with shaking hands.

"Drink that." Chris told him. He kept his voice gentle "Then get some sleep in the bed."

"Don't sleep much."

"You don't have to worry about bounty hunters tonight Vin. I'll keep watch."

"That ain't what I meant." Vin took a sip of the whiskey and the cup rattled softly against his teeth. "Not tonight leastways."

Chris sat in his chair again.

"I don't think you should talk about this anymore tonight."

Vin sniffed and wiped his eyes again and took another sip of whiskey.

"_Have_ I been talking about it? Feels like I haven't said squat."

"Compared to what it was like for you, I bet you've hardly said anything." Chris agreed.

"I appreciate you being here to hear it all though. Even when it seemed like maybe I wasn't." The last of the whiskey in the cup went down. "I appreciate that you wanted me to talk about it."

"I still want to hear what you have to say, I just think you talked enough tonight."

"Not much left to say I reckon. The men in town got the posse together, they let me ride with 'em. The minister in their church there didn't know Padre's people, but he told me there was a Catholic church about fifteen miles away and it might be they knew. When I told the sheriff, when I asked him how to get there, he got the idea that they might be gonna rob other churches. So he sent some telegrams and sent some fellas to the nearest places might not have a telegraph and one of them was that Catholic church.

"They knew Padre's people, at least how to get in touch with them. They said they'd get word to 'em and they offered to say a service for him. Then they told us about another church, a real poor place, another seven miles or so. The fellas I was with didn't think that'd be a place those bastards would attack on account a'their being so poor, but something just told me different. I couldn't get 'em to listen to me, so I headed there myself."

He took a deep breath that raised his shoulders high.

"_I found 'em." _

M7*M7*M7

As a gunfighter, as a grieving husband and father, Chris knew first hand how the world could be reduced to one person, one bead drawn through one scope, one burning need for revenge. Despite the grisly circumstances, he couldn't help a smile, picturing the squared shoulders and single-minded determination of a teenage Vin Tanner.

"Guess that was that general your Padre was talking about."

"He was a such a good man." Vin said, his voice breaking again. "Even - even when he was dying, he still tried to take care of me. He was still worried about me and what was gonna happen to me when he was gone. He made me promise him over and over that I'd take justice, not revenge."

Chris couldn't get his mind to balance his vision of what the Padre's condition must've been those last few days with being told about a man who was still strong enough to talk, much less press Vin for assurances. He sure wasn't going to ask Vin for specifics, but he sure did wonder.

"I wanted to kill him." Vin said. Chris couldn't blame him; he wanted to kill those bastards and he'd never even met Padre.

"I can imagine."

"I mean Padre."

Chris' surprise had to show on his face, even in the darkness. Vin searched his face, but Chris didn't know for what.

"I offered to - to - make it stop. That second morning. I thought I should make it stop."

"What did he say?"

"He laughed." Chris wasn't expecting that response. "Just like he always laughed. He said he might be standing on Heaven's threshold, but until the Lord opened the door, he wasn't about to go bustin' in." He wiped a hand across his cheek. "He laughed, just like he always did. After that I stayed right with him. I was holding him when he died. I'll tell you Chris - the good Lord and I don't talk very often, but I do thank Him for that."

"I can imagine."

Vin took a deep breath then that should've been a yawn and he let his eyes wander around the cabin.

"We buried him in his robes, right there in the yard. Tio built a lean-to when we couldn't bring Padre back into the house and that's where we buried him. I didn't stay there but one minute more after that. I packed up what supplies there was after lettin' Tio and Doro and Lucy and Pepina have what they needed, n'telling them to take the livestock, and I lit out for the town to tell the law what happened." He looked down into the cup he still held in his hand. "I went back once, after I caught those bastards. I ain't been back since."

Chris nodded his understanding.

"We'll go back there one day." He promised, and Vin nodded too and closed his eyes. Chris watched him, hoping he was tired enough now that he'd agree to sleep in the bed. Tomorrow was soon enough to hear the rest of this story; as much as Chris wanted to hear how Vin finally got the bad guys, right now he wanted Vin to get some rest.

After a couple of minutes when Vin didn't open his eyes again, Chris stood up and lightly shook his arm. Vin blinked a few times and lifted his head.

"C'mon, get some sleep." He took the cup from Vin and set it on the table. "It's late and morning'll be here soon enough."

"Lemme sleep in the chair." Vin sounded worn out.

"I'll let you sleep in the bed."

"M'cold. Wanna sleep near the stove."

"We'll move the bed over to the stove."

"You don't give up, do you?"

"Just as soon as I win." Chris answered. "C'mon."

Vin stood up, a little unsteady, and took just a couple of steps then stopped and looked around.

"Bed's this way." Chris said.

"Our place was bigger'n this."

"Wouldn't take much ." Chris tried to move him on, but Vin lingered there.

"I had my own room. Not much bigger'n my bed mind you, but it was my own little place. I left there, I ain't been in a home since then, not 'til the first time I set foot here."

"You call this place a 'home'?" Chris had to ask.

"Yeah, I do."

Vin moved on then, accepting Chris' help, and set himself onto the bed.

"Laying down would be next." Chris said when Vin made no further move.

"I've found it's easier to sleep that way."

"Slept lotsa times sitting up."

"I bet you have. Not tonight. Lay down." Chris remembered having similar conversations with Adam.

"Nobody would come with me." Vin said suddenly. "Nobody thought I knew what I was talking about. I knew - I knew they was gonna be at that little parish nobody else thought was worth their time. It made me mad, you know? It was like hearing it all over again, when I was little, how I was a problem, a nuisance, not fit to be around people. It made me mad."

Chris sat down on the bed next to Vin. Sleep didn't seem such a likely possibility anymore.

"So, what happened?"

"I lit out on my own, hell for leather. Got there as the sun was going down and they were just getting started."

He swallowed once or twice, taking his time.

"I shoulda known better'n to just ride up on `em. I shoulda hid and just picked `em off with the rifle the sheriff gave me, but I was mad and mad'll get you stupid. I rode right up to `em, the three of `em, right into the yard. I grabbed my gun and jumped off my horse. I still don't know what I thought I'se gonna do. The horse ran away and there I was, madder'n hell and about to get myself cut to tassels for my ignorance.

"The fella leading the bunch, he had a knife, big as my arm. He pointed it at me and grinned, like saying I was next. He was bloody and grinning and I thought I never seen anything so scary in my life with the firelight dancing shadows on him and the way he smiled like he was the devil himself. I still see that knife in my nightmares. "

Vin picked at the edge of the bedspread and twisted it hard in his fingers.

"I ran. I turned and I ran outta that yard. I didn't care a lick what they'd do to that Padre and anybody else might be there. I ran to save my own skin and I didn't stop `til I found some little rabbit hole under a rotten log a good quarter mile away. I could hear `em, the three of them chasing after me. Not even coming after me fast, but slow and deliberate, all the while laughing at me and scarier because of it. I was gonna be flayed alive and hung out like jerked meat and every slow crunch of their boots in the brush there hammered that into my skull. I was gonna die and I was gonna die slow."

Chris didn't answer. He didn't think there was anything he could say, and he wasn't sure Vin was even telling the tale to him, or to himself. He stayed where he was and listened.

"I started digging into that rabbit hole, praying I could get in there and hide before they found me - and then that made me madder." Vin

turned and in his eyes Chris saw the calculating anger that he was used to seeing there. Even his voice changed from anguished memories to calm recollection.

"That brought to mind every hole I ever had to hide in to keep from getting beat on or spit on or hollered at when I was a youngun, all the times I got chased and laughed at and made fun of. Then all of a sudden them coming after me didn't scare me anymore; they weren't nothing but bullies and bullies I figured I could take care of."

Vin laughed suddenly, a quiet laugh like he was self- conscious about something. He smoothed out the bedspread where he'd twisted it and he backed a little away from Chris on the bed.

"Anyway, it was getting dark but they was making as much noise as a stampede, so I just took position behind that log and waited. I forgot everything else but how to drop something with one shot. I forgot Padre talking about justice, I forgot the little I knew about law, I didn't think about a trial or hanging them or anything. That first fella got within my sights and I dropped him like the rat he was.

"That shocked the other two fellas I can tell you. I don't know if they weren't used to being stood up to, or if they just figured there wouldn't be any standing up from me. They kept coming towards me, angry instead of laughing. I shot the second fella quick as the first only he didn't go down. He made to run away, so did the leader, and I jumped up and gave as good a Commanche yell as Tio ever taught me and I took out after them.

"The leader, he got to their horses and he was gone. The second fella made it to the yard again. I was gonna drop him for good this time, no matter how much he was on his knees, beggin' for mercy, sayin' he was unarmed. Just as I was raising my rifle, the Padre they'd been fixing to kill got between me and him. He was cut up and losin' blood but he stood there saying he wouldn't let me kill an unarmed man, no matter what he'd done.

"Y'gotta know, I was inclined to shove him outta the way and commence firing. I said, `You don't know what he done,' and the Padre lifts up his hands and his arms and his face all bloody and says quiet like `Tell me what I don't know.'"

Vin stopped there again. He swallowed again and tears shone in his eyes in the meager light from the stove.

"He didn't know." He said softly, his voice shaking. "Even if they'd done everything to him they did to Padre he still wouldn't know what they did. But I couldn't argue him. I tied that fella up instead and I weren't gentle about it neither. I took one of their horses they'd left and I lit outta there. I didn't stop to tell the law what'd happened, I was after the fella in charge and I was gonna get him."

To be continued


	17. Chapter 17

As Vin recounted his story, he wondered if he should even be telling Larabee. To his own ears it sounded almost like bragging, and that was sure the last thing it would be. But he didn't know what it was. He didn't know why he kept on telling the tale when Chris kept prodding him to get some sleep. Wasn't nothing Chris could do about what happened to Padre. It was a horror over and done these ten years, and talking sure never helped anything.

At least not since he had Padre to talk to.

Maybe though he kept telling the tale because Chris was the first person since Padre who Vin knew would understand what had happened.

"That was the first man I ever killed, that first fella in the brush." he said. Chris gave a nod. "It didn't settle on me 'til a while after what it meant, what I'd done. At the time I didn't think nothing about it."

"Better that way."

"Yeah."

Vin was tired. The tiredness sat heavy behind his eyes and in his throat and on his back. He wanted to finish the tale to Chris, but he wanted it done fast.

"I tracked him. A couple a'weeks after that it took me. Halfway across Texas and near back again. I don't know how I was doin' it, I never tracked a man before, but I figured later on that all them early years of needing to save my skin made me think on what folks was _gonna _do even more'n what they _were _doin'. First week I was trailing him, then gradually I gained on him, 'til finally I was ahead of him. He left off killing Padres but he still liked to rob 'em and there was one church still he hadn't touched and I got there first and waited on him."

Vin saw the whole bloody scene play out again in front of his eyes. Chris didn't say anything.

"I was so tired, so worn down, so damn angry that Padre was dead and how he'd died. Huntin' this fella, I'd worn through three horses, one bridle, two pairs of gloves and all of my patience and waiting there inside that church where maybe I shoulda been praying for Padre or at least asking the Lord for good Christian forbearance, all I could think about was gut shooting that bastard and hoping it took him a good long while to die. There I was in the house of God and all I could think about was taking another man's life."

"Thinking any else would've got you killed." Chris told him, and it was the first time Vin had ever thought of it that way.

"Reckon you're right, at that." He took a tired breath and closed his eyes. "When I saw him ride into the yard, I had the Padre that was there and another fella, I had them hide out in the root cellar they had there. I wanted this fella to think I was alone."

But then Vin opened his eyes and sighed a guilty sigh.

"Truth is, I put that Padre outta my way so's he couldn't get between me and killin' that fella that killed Padre. The way I was feelin', I'd likely killed anybody got in my way. So I put him outta my way.

"I wasn't steady then, not like now when I know how to wait for the right shot, the right chance. I wanted him dead as soon as I saw him. He rode up into the yard, he didn't look scared or worried, or even wore out. If I didn't know the truth, I coulda thought he was a regular churchgoer, coming to pay his respects to the Lord. But I did know better what he was about and I wanted him dead.

"Only thing was, more'n I wanted him dead I wanted him to know who was killing him and why. So instead of getting a draw on him safe behind a window, I walk right out to him there in the yard. You shoulda heard me Chris." Vin gave an embarrassed grin at the memory. "It was probably something as bad as in JD's penny dreadfuls. I shoulda just shot him but I start spoutin' off how he killed the Padre and I was gonna kill him and justice would be served and I don't even remember now what all I started saying. It was a lot of tripe though I can tell you.

"So while I'm spoutin' bravado he comes at me with his rifle like a club and we commence to fightin'. I reckon the only advantage I had was that he'd already taken everything from me, so I had nothing to lose. So somehow we ended up with him on the ground, me kneeling over him, and that God-awful knife of his in my hand.

"I wanted to kill him. I wanted to butcher him like the swine he was and I raised that knife over my head, ready to lay his intestines open to the daylight - and I saw the blood on the hilt. Dried blood. I had to wonder if it was Padre's blood. I figured Padre's blood was on that knife somewhere and I wasn't about to mix that bastard's blood up with his. So instead of splitting him wide open, I scalped him."

A whistle of surprise from Chris reminded Vin that not everybody had a right understanding of scalping.

"You been reading JD's penny dreadfuls yourself Larabee? Scalping don't mean you gotta take their whole head. I skinned me a piece 'bout as big as my thumb. He started squalling though, worse'n that baby this morning. You woulda thought I did take his whole head. I didn't care. I wiped the blood off onto his jacket and I tied him up and I dragged him all the way to the closest town."

"Dragged him?"

"Not _dragged _dragged." Vin said. He was tired and taking short cuts in his talking was getting confusing. "Closest town was about six miles away. I tied him on a short rope to the saddle horn. I rode, he walked. If he fell, I _woulda _dragged him. I didn't care. He coulda been a burr in my horse's tale for how much I cared."

"He didn't deserve any better." Chris said. "You did good catching him so fast."

"I lost him then." Vin muttered, almost to himself. He explained to Chris, "Padre, I mean. Looking back, I think that's when I lost Padre. All he ever told me, ever taught me about right and wrong and living and dying - not just when he was dying but the whole time I knew him - looking back I think I lost it all then, those days I was tracking that fella. I wouldn't a'thought I could lose him that easy but I did. I lost Padre then."

M7*M7*M7

Listening to Vin, Chris could tell that another minute or two would have him asleep, he was talking slower and seemed more to be talking to himself.

"What happened when you got him to town?" he asked. Once Vin finished his tale, Chris was going to have him lay down if he had to put him down on the pillows himself.

"They hanged him. I didn't stay around for it. I couldn't even talk I was so - so - _tired_. I shoved him at the sheriff then I turned right around and rode back to Padre. I had the knife and I had that patch of scalp and I was gonna take 'em back to Padre and show him...show him..."

His voice trailed off.

"I didn't feel a thing Chris. I rode back into that yard that'd been my home for more'n half my life and stood at the grave of the man I loved -." His voice broke on the word. " - more'n any kin I ever had and I didn't feel anything. I kept trying to feel something, sad, angry, relieved, something. It was like Padre never existed in my life. I threw down the knife and the scalp and I rode outta there and never been back since. And think I never been the same since either."

Chris understood that feeling all too well.

"You were in shock Vin. It wasn't that you didn't feel anything; you were feeling too much." But Vin went on like he hadn't heard him.

"I went back to town 'cause I didn't know what to do and there was pile a'money waitin' for me by wire. Those fellas was wanted in three different counties for murder and I caught 'em and they wanted to pay me for it. For a minute I thought I shouldn't take it, it'd be like profiting from Padre dying and if it was now, I wouldn't take it. But - I just took it and I put it in my pocket. Something's been missing ever since then Chris. I can't hear his voice anymore."

"You're tired Vin." Chris held off saying that he was pretty sure Vin didn't want to hear his Padre's voice because it might tell him things he didn't want to hear. "You lay down now and sleep. You been awake since dawn and it's nearly dawn again. I'm surprised you can hear anything at all."

So Vin kicked off his boots and laid down on the bed. Chris stood up to pull the blanket up over him. He was about to turn to go to the bedroll in front of the stove, but Vin's question stopped him.

"Will you help me Chris?"

"Help you what?"

"Find Padre. Will you help me find him again?"

Chris sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"Vin-." He moved his hand, meaning to give himself a better position on the thin mattress, but in the near total darkness, his fingers brushed over Vin's hand. Both men pulled theirs hands back automatically but Chris was struck by how cold Vin's hand had felt. He reached out again and found Vin's hand and covered the freezing cold fingers with his own.

"You didn't lose him. Close your eyes and get some rest, and he'll find his way back to you."

Vin didn't answer right away and Chris couldn't see his face in the dark.

"Okay." he finally said.

To be continued


	18. Chapter 18

Chris woke up to full daylight, a bright, sunny day with not even a hint of cloud in the sky. He pushed himself up off the bedroll and was surprised – but grateful – to see Vin still asleep in the bed. Even this early hour in the morning Vin would consider late, and he was usually up and about long before now. Chris had no thought of waking him though, and he kept his movements as quiet as possible as he rolled up the bedroll, made some coffee and set out a plate of biscuits. He didn't think Vin would like not being woken up, but after last night, after all of yesterday, Chris wouldn't be surprised if he slept until early afternoon.

M7*M7*M7

Vin woke up with sunlight pouring into his face. He'd slept, but not deeply. Though he could tell morning was near half over, he could roll over pretty easy and go right back to sleep. Chris' bed wasn't as comfortable as it could be, but what'd disturbed his sleep mostly was odd dreams that he'd fled from into repeated wakefulness.

His muscles ached and the scratches pulled in his back as he pushed himself up to sitting. Looking across the room, he saw his bedroll tied and set out of the way, and coffee and biscuits waiting on the table. So Chris was up already and out of the house.

Just as well. Vin didn't know if he could face him right now.

With a sigh of resignation, he braved the aches and pains and stood up. He took a minute to let his body complain before he walked to the table to help himself to a biscuit and cup of coffee. He could see Chris out the window, standing near the corral.

He thought Chris would've woke him up, gotten on the trail back to town as soon as the sun was up. No point staying here when there was nothing left to be said.

So maybe the aches and pains and bone-through tiredness weren't all physical. And maybe the sun wasn't so bright just because the rain had stopped.

M7*M7*M7

Chris let the horses out into the corral and stood at the fence watching them stretch their muscles and roll in the fresh grass when Vin came out of the cabin with a cup of coffee. He hadn't put his hat or his coat or his holster on.

They were too far apart for easy conversation but Chris couldn't miss the pointed look Vin gave him after studying the sky for a minute. Yep, he knew it was late and he wasn't happy, and Chris figured the only polite thing to do was to walk close enough to give Vin a chance to vent his grievance. So he walked to the porch and sat on the top step near Vin.

Sure enough,

"Day's half over." Vin grumbled.

"You got an odd way of telling time."

"I got a fine way a'telling time." Vin swallowed some coffee. "So – you feeling better? Don't look so feverish today."

"I feel all right. Wouldn't know I was ever sick. I guess that remedy of yours worked."

"Ain't alive 'cause I'm stupid."

"Ain't alive 'cause you're a coward either."

"No, I reckon not."

M7*M7*M7

They didn't do much talking after that, only what was necessary to pack up their gear and saddle the horses and get on their way back to town. A soft haze hung over the landscape; the wet remains of the storm burning off in the sunlight.

Vin felt like he wanted to say something, ask something of Chris, but he couldn't figure out what it might be. Chris wouldn't expect to be thanked for last night, and Vin wasn't sure how he'd form those words anyway. And what could he possibly ask him that wasn't answered already just by Chris riding now at his side?

Maybe it wasn't Chris he needed to talk to though. Maybe he was looking for some way to talk to Padre.

When they got to town, they headed for the livery and turned their horses over to Yosemite.

"C'mon, what d'you say we get a real breakfast?" Chris asked.

"Sounds good." Vin answered, half distracted. "I just want t'go see if Josiah's about. Something I need to ask him."

"I'll meet you at the restaurant then."

M7*M7*M7

Josiah was in the front pew of his church with that box of bibles at his feet when he heard someone come in behind him. He turned to see Vin walking down the center aisle.

"Vin – how're you feeling?" He stood and walked over to him.

"Reckon I could use another hour of sleep." Vin took his hat off and made a couple of attempts before saying, "Josiah, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know a prayer, it goes 'de profundis clamavi ad te Domine'?"

Josiah didn't answer, he looked at Vin with amazement.

"You don't know it then?" Vin asked, taking the silence for something else. "Don't matter I reckon, I thought you might've heard it."

"No Vin – I know it." Josiah hurried to assure him. "Just – forgive my surprise at hearing you speak Latin."

"Oh." Vin shrugged it off, though he seemed embarrassed. "I knew a fella used to pray that a lot. Reckon it just wore a path in my brain hearing him say it so often. I was just wondering if you knew how it goes regular, in American."

"I do, it's a psalm: 'Out of the depths I have cried unto Thee, O Lord. Lord hear my voice, Let Thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplication. If Thou, O Lord, shalt mark our iniquities, Lord who shall endure it? For with Thee there is merciful forgiveness, and by reason of Thy law I have waited for Thee, O Lord.'"

There were a few more lines but Josiah paused there; Vin was staring hard at the floor, holding the brim of his hat in both hands. He looked up when Josiah stopped speaking.

"That's real beautiful, ain't it?" His voice was almost a whisper. "There's something in there about redemption, isn't there? Merciful forgiveness and plentiful redemption. I think I never heard anything so beautiful as that."

"No, I don't think I ever have either."

"Y'ever get the chance, you think you might scribe that down for me? Don't have to be fancy, just something I can have in my hand when I want to remember it."

"Here, I can do even better than that." Josiah turned to the bibles waiting in their crate. He picked one up and flipped to the right page. Very carefully he started to tear the page from its binding.

"Hey – what're you doin'? Don't spoil a bible." Vin reached out to stay Josiah's destruction.

"It's all right. I have to burn these anyway. There's a misprint in 'em."

"What kinda misprint makes you have to burn a bible?"

"The one where it says, 'thou _shall_ commit adultery." Josiah said, grinning. "Imagine what would happen if Buck ever got hold of that."

"Maybe Buck's the one printed them up." Vin said. He took the page Josiah offered and held it delicately. "Which prayer is it?"

"It's this one." Josiah pointed to where the Psalm began, but there was a whole lot of small printing on a small page and Vin was giving it a strange look. Josiah pulled a carpenter's pencil out of his pocket and made a star next to the Psalm. "There, this one."

Vin nodded, staring at the page.

"Thanks Josiah. I hadn't heard this in a long time. It's nice to hear it again."

"You're welcome Vin. It is a beautiful prayer."

"Yeah." Taking care not to fold the page, Vin slid it into his coat pocket. "Reckon I'll go see about getting that hour of sleep now. I'll see you Josiah."

He turned to leave but only got about halfway when he turned back again.

"Vin?" Josiah wondered if something was wrong.

"That fella who used to pray this, you remind me of him a lot."

Josiah knew for the Psalm to be prayed so often it had to be a priest or religious brother that Vin was talking about. For it to have made such an impression on Vin, that priest or brother had to have been a remarkable man.

"Vin – I'm honored."

"He would be too." Vin answered in a rough whisper. "I'll see you Josiah." .

M7*M7*M7

Chris was waiting on the porch of the restaurant but Vin was feeling too wore out to think about anything but sleep.

"I'm gonna have to stand you up for breakfast." He told Chris. "I'm goin' to my room, get some more sleep. Catch me up around noon though and I'll have dinner with you."

"All right." Chris agreed. But after giving a good look to Vin he asked, "Everything go okay with Josiah?"

"Yeah, fine. I'se just asking him about a prayer Padre used to say. I couldn't remember the words, and Josiah give 'em to me on a piece of paper."

"Okay. I'll come get you in a few hours then."

They parted company and Vin went to his room at the boardinghouse. He took off his coat and hat and holster and set them over the chair. He took the prayer out of the coat pocket and held it in his hand and tried to read it.

After a minute, he laid down on the bed and held the page over his heart. He hadn't felt this tired in a long time. His body was so tired and felt so heavy, he was sure he'd sink right into the mattress.

As sleep stole upon him, he found himself standing at a small house he hadn't seen in ten years, with the sound of familiar laughter filling the yard. Turning in his dream, Vin saw Padre walking towards him.

The End.


End file.
